


Paranormal Aca-tivity

by RubbishRobots



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2018-11-29 04:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11432742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubbishRobots/pseuds/RubbishRobots
Summary: A Ghostbusters-style reimagining of Pitch Perfect! Chloe Beale is in New York for the ICCA finals, with her parents' swanky apartment on Central Park West all to herself. Too bad there's a mouldy old Summerian god living in the fridge. Lucky for her, college dropouts Beca, Jesse and Benji have recently started a business that deals with this sort of thing all the time.





	1. Chapter 1

The yellow cab slowed to a halt on Central Park West, and Chloe winced as she stepped out of it. Aubrey had worked them extra hard in Bellas training an hour earlier, and Chloe’s muscles were sore and strained from the excessive cardio.  
  
She paid the driver and watched him pull away, disappearing into the New York rush hour traffic around the park, and then she turned to look up at her destination. Her parents had started renting this apartment after she’d already left for Barden, and though they had sent her a thousand pictures, she couldn’t help but be in awe of it.  
  
It was as tall as any of the skyscrapers in midtown, with beautiful art deco architecture, and with enough spires and gargoyles around the rooftop to make the whole thing end up reminding her of a castle.  
  
A castle she had all to herself for the next few weeks.  
  
The doorman showed her inside and called the elevator for her, and the second those big steel doors closed and Chloe was alone, she sighed deeply and practically collapsed against the wall. Aubrey had really done a number on them. As the ICCA finals drew nearer, her co-captain’s patience grew thinner, her tolerance for choreography mistakes lowered, her yelling reached new decibels. How stupid it was, Chloe thought as she massaged her right shoulder, to think it would soothe Aubrey’s demeanour if all the Bellas came out to New York a month early, to really perfect their performance before finals.  
  
“Nice thinking, Beale,” she muttered aloud to the empty elevator.  
  
She reached her floor and half-limped down the long hallway, using the key she’d been left to open the door. A huge window overlooking the park greeted her, the focal point of an expansive and stylishly furnished apartment.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Chloe said, dropping her gym bag by the door and walking to the centre of the living room to stretch out all her aching muscles. “This’ll do just fine.”  
  
Her first task was to head into the bathroom and turn on the tap above the bath, then she headed to the kitchen next door to grab a glass of water while she waited for the tub to fill up. On the counter of the practically sparkling white kitchen were two bags of fresh groceries and a note from her parents; leaving the numbers they could be reached whilst on vacation, wishing her luck with the finals of her ‘singing thingy’, and semi-seriously asking her not to wreck the place. Chloe rolled her eyes, scrunched the note up into a ball, and threw it over her head.  
  
She grabbed a glass from a cabinet and turned to the sink. She had just reached out to turn on the faucet when she heard it. Quiet, subtle, but definitely there: A rustling noise, coming from behind her.  
  
She turned around, back to the counter where the note had been, and watched in confusion as both of the paper groceries bags quivered and shook for no discernible reason. She took a single, cautious step forward, thinking at worst a bug or something had gotten into them while no one was home. And yet her eyes were drawn to the base of the bags.  
  
They were burning. The brown paper material was gradually turning black and charred, some hidden source of heat making it crumble into ash.  
  
She looked down at the counter, reached out a hand to touch the surface, and then yanked it back when it singed her finger.  
  
“Ow,” she yelped. “What the hell?”  
  
A portion of the bags tore open, and a box of eggs fell out. They cracked, and began to fry right there on the counter. Chloe watched the white and the yolk of the eggs sizzle in astonishment.  
  
The other paper bag, perhaps jealous of the egg trick, took that moment to completely burst into flame. Chloe shrieked again and leapt back. She could feel the heat from the flames as they danced in front of her. The thought of calling for help managed to cut through the blind panic in her head, and she began backing along the cabinets to reach the kitchen door.  
  
That’s when the fridge began to make the most peculiar of noises. At first she thought it was creaking, like it was about to fall to bits just as easily as the paper bags. But then she realised it wasn‘t the fridge making the noise at all. It was something inside, growling.  
  
And even as confused and afraid as she was, she couldn’t help slowly making her way towards the fridge, reaching out for the handle, and pulling it open.  
  
What she saw was impossible. More impossible than grocery bags spontaneously combusting, more impossible than eggs frying on an ordinary countertop.  
  
Inside the fridge she saw a swirling sky. Clouds the colour of dark purple bruises, swimming around in preparation for a storm. There was a long set of black stone steps, leading up to a blindingly bright white structure. A gate, a temple, and a creature. Four legged, red-eyed and grotesque. Chloe looked at it, and the creature looked back.  
  
Then it opened it’s mouth and called out: “Zuul!”  
  
Chloe slammed the refrigerator door and ran out of the kitchen.

* * *

**PARANORMAL ACA-TIVITY**

**a _Ghostbusters_ -style reimagining of _Pitch Pefect_**

* * *

  
The third time the blonde girl smiled at her, Beca knew she wasn’t imagining things. It was important to be sure, because Beca read signals wrong sometimes. She often thought it would be way easier if the girls at Columbia University could wear T-shirts which declared their opinion on Beca, one way or the other, in a romantic sense.  
  
But since the moment this girl had walked in the library, and Beca’s eyes had been drawn away from her phone screen by a wave of blonde hair in her peripheral vision, there had been a connection. That was thirty minutes ago. There had been lots of eye contact since then, and the aforementioned three separate smiles. It was time to mobilize, she decided. All Beca needed was an opening.  
  
Blonde Girl had a laptop in front of her and was occasionally consulting books. Perhaps she was trying to finish a paper? Beca frowned. That would complicate things. But that frown vanished when the girl breathed out a heavy sigh and relaxed in her chair, before reaching into her pocket to get out her phone. A study break! The window was open.  
  
Beca quietly stood up and started closing the distance. As she approached the table, Blonde Girl actually looked up at her expectantly. Beca smiled her fourth smile, and opened her mouth to talk.  
  
“This is it!”  
  
Alas, it was not her voice that broke the silence, but Jesse’s. He appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her by the elbow and tugging her forward.  
  
“This is definitely it! It’s the big one, and we need to go. Right now.”  
  
Beca planted her feet, causing Jesse’s stride to jerk to a stop, and then she swatted his hand away from her.  
  
“I’m a little busy right now, Jess.” She tried to gesture with her eyes towards blonde girl, who she was pretty sure was watching this whole thing in bewilderment. “How about I catch up with you later?”  
  
If Jesse saw the girl, he didn’t change his mind.  
  
“No way. We need all hands on deck. A major New York City landmark just had to be evacuated due to an unspecified paranormal event. Benji’s already there, he took readings that busted the metre. Seriously, the PKE Metre broke under the strain, which sucks because it’s technically University property that’s checked out under your name and you’ll probably have to replace it, but that’s not the point. The point is that this is as close as we’ve ever come and I’m not missing it. So: come on!”  
  
He started walking away again, though Beca found it to be more of an excited skip than a walk. She turned, haplessly, to Blonde Girl, who stared back at her - all pretty eyes and hopeful. Beca smiled sadly and turned to follow Jesse.  
  
“God damn you, Jesse Swanson,” she seethed, once they were outside the library and headed for his car. “Did you see that girl?”  
  
Jesse‘s look was far from sympathetic. “Sorry. Maybe you can ask her later if she wants to take part in your super useful ESP tests.”  
  
“For the last time, what happens between me and those volunteers is totally professional. Those sessions are producing solid data.”  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes as he approached his old, beaten up car. “Is that the kids are calling it now?”  
  
He unlocked it, and Beca squeezed past all the useless equipment shoved into the tiny vehicle and pulled the seatbelt around herself.  
  
“You know,” she said, scrolling through the news app on her phone. “There‘s nothing on the internet about your major evacuation.”  
  
Jesse avoided her gaze and didn’t reply. And it wasn’t until she was standing outside a boring old three storey home in lower Manhattan that she understood why.  
  
“The Aldridge Mansion?” she said, reading aloud from the faded sign planted outside the building. “This is your major New York City landmark?”  
  
“It’s a museum,” said Jesse defensively, taking as much equipment as his rucksack could carry and locking the car. “Look, they even have an Instagram account.”  
  
“Benji has an Instagram for the spores, moulds and fungus that he finds. That doesn’t make him the Empire State Building, Jess.”  
  
Jesse breezed past her and approached the house. There was a short set of steps that led up the old front porch, where she could spot a young man on his knees, fiddling with something on the front door. Jesse was fervently discussing something with him when Beca caught up and shook her head shamefully.  
  
“This is a new low for you guys.”  
  
“Afternoon, Beca,” said Benji, without turning away from the front door or the lock he was trying to pick. “I overheard your comment about my moulds and fungus Instagram, and I’ll have you know I gained two followers this week.”  
  
Jesse patted him on the shoulder affectionately but threw Beca a wink.  
  
“A few more and you’ll finally be in double digits.”  
  
“You guys are actually breaking in to this asbestos factory?” asked Beca.  
  
“The whole place was quietly evacuated around noon,” Jesse explained. “One of those guys at GhostNews tweeted about it. I tried to call the owners but they weren’t picking up. We can’t wait for permission, we have to get in there and see what we can find.”  
  
Beca pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous. And I’m not gonna be an accessory to this. I will not go to jail for failing to break into the world’s lamest museum. I don’t need a science credit that badly.”  
  
“It’s not a museum,” said Benji vaguely murmured, the door lock still holding the majority of his attention.. “It’s a historically preserved site open to the public. And for your information, escapology magic is a hobby of mine. When I was twelve, I encased myself in a coffin, tipped it into a lake, and broke myself free before I ran out of air. This lock will be a piece of cake.”  
  
Beca rolled her eyes. “Right. Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t have much faith in a guy who thought he’d worked out how to survive drilling a hole through his head.”  
  
Benji swung away from the door to glare at Beca. “That would have worked if you hadn’t stopped me!”  
  
“Easy,” said Jesse sternly, to both of them. “We’re all here now. Everybody who would be an accessory already is one. So we might as well see it through.”  
  
Beca clenched her fists and turned her back to them, looking up and down the empty city street. No cop cars in sight. It was a sleepy corner of the city, and she hoped it would stay that way.  
  
“You know, as a friend I really have to tell you that you’re finally going around the bend with this ghost business. Four years of college and all you’ve done is talk to whack-jobs who want attention. It’s a waste of your parents money.”  
  
“Are you trying to summon spirits with your negative energy?” asked Jesse. “Because if anybody can do it, it’s you.”  
  
“We are conducting pioneering research into the science of this century,” Benji added, in between intricate pokes at the door. “Our parent‘s money is being spent just fine.”  
  
“Pioneering research?” Beca scoffed. “What evidence have you collected, Benji? In four years of running after all the wild goose chases we’ve been fed, what evidence of the paranormal have we ever actually seen?”  
  
There was an echoing click, and the door in front of Benji swung itself open. The three of them peered down the hallway that led into the Aldridge Mansion. It was dark, deserted, and eerily silent.  
  
“Something tells me,” said Benji quietly, “nothing compared to what we’re about to see now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the title of this fic: it was the only ghost-related Pitch Perfect pun I could think of. I physically groaned with shame when I thought of it, but now I actually kind of love it? Feel free to point out any other puns I might have missed.
> 
> Also, the official themesong for this fic is the Pentatonix version of the Ghostbusters theme music. For obvious reasons.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wow,” said Beca, shining her torchlight across the perfectly preserved entrance hall of The Aldridge Mansion. “This is dusty. I mean, I knew it was a super old house, so I was expecting some sort of dustiness. But man, this is just really a next level amount of dust.”  
  
“Cool it with the snark,” said Jesse. “It’s interfering with the instruments.”  
  
He was peering down at the PKE metre (still intermittently working), a clunky handheld device of his own invention, which he claimed picked up paranormal energy signatures. Last month, Beca had fiddled with the antennas poking out the front of it and used it to get free HBO in their dorm room.  
  
She was often doing that, finding some real world way to justify the amount of time, effort and money that Benji and Jesse put into this doomed search for life after death. As she looked around the ‘fascinating’ hallway’; full of the turn-of-the-century chairs, turn-of-the-century coat hangers and turn-of-the-century magazine racks; she briefly wondered how she’d salvage this escapade. What use could come from creeping around a dark and abandoned but otherwise thoroughly un-haunted museum?  
  
“Oooh,” she said, upon spotting a stand of leaflets for other NYC attractions. “10% off tickets to Blue Man Group. Welcome to my pocket, Mr Leaflet.”  
  
“I should have left you with the blonde girl,” said Jesse with remorse.  
  
“We could have brought her with us. I’m pretty sure she was a journalism student, and you know how Benji loves his ‘print media is dead’ speech.” She paused to grin at her own dig, then frowned. “Wait. Where is Benji?”  
  
Jesse sighed and looked up from his PKE metre. “He’s right… where did he go?”  
  
Beca shined her torch light in all corners of the hallway. She saw nothing but bits of lint dancing in the air.  
  
“You know how people in horror movies always call out ‘This isn’t funny’ - well this actually isn’t funny, Benji. Come out.”  
  
There was a staircase at the end of the hall, and Jesse took a step towards it.  
  
“Did he go upstairs?”  
  
Beca shook her head. “We would have heard him.”  
  
She came to his side, shining her torch on the foot of the steps and then letting it journey upwards. One by one, step by step, imagining every creak it would have made if Benji had climbed up, or if someone else had climbed down when neither she nor Jesse were looking and…  
  
“Guys!” Benji said from behind them.  
  
“ _Jesus_ ,” Beca breathed, and she and Jesse flinched with every bone in their body.  
  
From a doorway just next to where he’d been standing, Benji winced at their reactions.  
  
“Sorry. Anyway, come here quick, I found something.”  
  
What he had found, evidently, was the main living area of the house. Antique sofas and pristine rocking horses were surrounded by velvet rope to protect from customer inflicted damage. They should also have seen a twin set of huge, ornate windows looking out onto the street, but the blinds were all drawn tight and only the late afternoon sunlight peeked through here and there. The focal point of the whole room, however, was the grand fireplace and the massive portrait of a young woman hanging above it. She was gorgeous and impeccably dressed, standing in the same room as the picture now hung, but there was something unmistakably off-putting about her eyes.  
  
“She’s cute,” said Beca. “And a brunette. You know how I have a thing for brunettes.”  
  
“Gertrude Aldridge,” said Benji, coming to stand next to Beca. “She’s the reason we’re here. The reason this place is preserved and people pay to see inside it everyday.”  
  
“I thought the house used to belong to some bureaucrat senator?” said Jesse.  
  
Benji shook his head. “It did, her dad. But there were tons of those in New York at the turn of the century.”  
  
“So why did they only preserve this one?” asked Beca, taking a step closer to the fireplace and aiming her torch up at the image of Gertrude.  
  
“Mostly because one summer Gertrude woke up in the middle of the night and stabbed all the house servants in their sleep.”  
  
Beca’s torch swung around to point in Benji’s face.  
  
“ _What?!_ ” she snapped.  
  
“Ow,” said Benji, of the torch light aimed right in his eyes. “Dude, what?”  
  
“This is a murder house?” she yelled. “You brought me to a freaking murder house? Swanson, did you know about this?”  
  
The torch of accusation turned upon Jesse.  
  
“No!” he swore. “Jesus, Benji. You should have told us. There could be all kinds of malevolent spirits drawn here with that kind of event.”  
  
“Don’t be so dramatic,” said Benji. “There’s nothing that big here. They only closed this place off because of some weird noises and tourists feeling bad presences.”  
  
Beca turned away, afraid that if she saw Benji’s dumb face for another few seconds she’d end up stuffing her torch down his esophagus. So she pointed the beam of light instead back at the picture of the murderous Ms Aldridge.  
  
And then she went very cold. Because Gertrude wasn’t in her painting anymore.  
  
“Guys,” she said, in more of a whimper than a voice.  
  
Benji and Jesse, still squabbling, looked to see what had rendered Beca F’n Mitchell so meek.  
  
“Holy shit,” Jesse breathed, upon seeing the picture frame still hanging there, still featuring the same red couch, only now without any sign of Gertrude.  
  
Benji rushed forward and started inspecting the wall behind the painting, the fireplace below it, the floor beneath both of them.  
  
“What are you looking for?” she asked.  
  
“Air currents. Trap doors. Weird, revolving-wall-type hinges.”  
  
Jesse shook his head. “We would have heard it moving.”  
  
Benji stepped away from the wall. “And nobody could’ve come in and switched the pictures that fast.”  
  
“And this isn’t Harry Potter, paintings don’t just get bored of their frames and take a walk - so where the hell did she go?” Beca demanded.  
  
It was at this moment that they each of the became aware of a new source of light in the room. Beca saw a pale, shimmering blue light fall across both Benji and Jesse‘s faces, and from their wide eyes she guessed the same shimmering light was showing on hers. For a second, they looked only at each other, swapping panicked glances and silently debating who should be the first to turn and look. And when no one offered to take the bullet, they all slowly moved their gazes as one.  
  
Over by the red sofa, the same one she’d previously been sitting on in the painting, stood the ghost of Gertrude Aldridge. She was slightly transparent, and bathed in the unearthly blue glow that she also seemed to be emitting. She did not move, instead gazing forlornly at the floor, but her chest rose and fell as if drawing in breath. In between reassessing the laws of the universe as she knew them, Beca marvelled at how detailed the apparition was; she could make out both the fine stitching of Gertrude’s gorgeous evening gown and, due to the transparency, the wallpaper pattern she stood in front of.  
  
And this brought her to her next question.  
  
“So what do we do?”  
  
Benji and Jesse, one at either side of her, exchanged a look that could only be described as ‘stumped’.  
  
“Well,” Jesse started, “I guess we could talk to it? Make contact?”  
  
Benji nodded in agreement, and made a move to step forward, only to feel Beca grab his wrist.  
  
“What?” he asked.  
  
Now Beca and Jesse shared a look.  
  
“Benji,” said Beca gently, “no offence, but you don’t exactly have great people skills.”  
  
Benji looked over at the glowing, floating, transparent image of Getrude Aldridge, and shrugged. “She’s not a person.”  
  
“See it’s stuff like that which makes me think you’re not the best candidate for first contact. I’ll do it.”  
  
Jesse shook his head. “You’ll hit on her. I‘ll do it.”  
  
Beca gasped in offence. “I am capable of talking to a female without making a sexual advance, you dick.”  
  
“Yeah?” said Jesse. “Name one.”  
  
“Your Mom. Cause even I wouldn’t go there.”  
  
“Let’s not bring mothers into this,” said Benji sternly.  
  
Amidst their bickering, Gertrude had raised her head from the floor, observed them with annoyance, and was now slowly gliding across the room towards them.  
  
“Oh, crap,” said Beca, and all three of them pressed their backs to the fireplace, faintly hoping it would in fact turn out to be a revolving wall.  
  
Gertrude regarded them with an expression of deepest disdain. She opened her mouth, and from it came an echoing voice that was disturbingly out of sync with the movements of her lips.  
  
“You are in my house.”  
  
Beca searched the pit of her stomach until she found where her voice had been cowering.  
  
“This is your house? Wow, we are so sorry, we must have gotten lost. Let us just get right out of your hair.”  
  
Benji grasped her wrist tight. She looked at him, and saw him holding up the PKE metre toward Gertrude.  
  
“Keep her talking. We might never get a chance like this again.”  
  
“You are in my house,” said Gertrude again.  
  
Beca swallowed nervously.  
  
“Listen, Miss Aldridge. We’re sorry if we disturbed you, but since we‘re here maybe we can help?. I’m not sure if you know this but… you’re deceased.”  
  
Gertrude cocked her head to the side and glared at Beca in what was undeniably a sardonic, ‘Are you kidding me?’-type expression. Benji shook his head in wonderment.  
  
“Posthumous Metacognition,” he said. “Amazing.”  
  
“Ok, so you know you’re dead,” said Beca, ignoring him and continuing to run with whatever adrenaline-fuelled tangent she was on, just in case utter terror took over any second. “But you must also know that generally, people don’t hang around after death. Do you think you might have anything playing on your mind, something that might be keeping you from, y’know… crossing over? Something on your conscience?”  
  
For a second, Gertrude sternly held Beca‘s gaze. Then, her eyes fell away, clouded with guilt, and she sighed with deepest sorrow. Beca would have gently continued her line of questioning, if Jesse hadn’t spoke up first.  
  
“Why’d you stab those guys?”  
  
There was silence.  
  
Jesse looked shocked at the words which had come out of his own mouth. Beca and Benji turned, open mouthed, to gape at him. Gertrude looked upon him too, seemingly stunned. But then the blue light that shrouded her turned a horrible shade of deep, dark red. Her beautiful face contorted with rage. She opened her mouth to let loose an ear splitting scream, and then she reared back her hand so she could lash out at him.  
  
Beca shoved Jesse hard, and Gertude’s hand missed him by inches, cutting into the wallpaper where he’d just been standing.  
  
“Run!” Beca yelled.  
  
And they did. While Gertrude screamed with decades of bottled up fury, the three of them shot for the door, sprinted down the hall, and burst out of the Aldridge Mansion.

* * *

  
  
“ _Why’d you stab those guys?_ ” said Beca, an hour later, once they had ran the whole way back to Jesse and Benji’s dorm room. She was laid out on Jesse’s bed, staring up at his ceiling and repeating this phrase every few minutes, in between laughing herself sore.  
  
“Shut up!” said Jesse from his desk chair. “It’s not that funny.”  
  
“It’s friggin hilarious,” Beca argued, clutching at her sides even as she fell into another painful fit of laughter. “Where did it even come from?”  
  
Jesse ducked her gaze. “I was freezing up! You had her talking, Benji was getting readings - I didn’t want to have my first ghost encounter pass me by without saying a word. I’ve waited way too long.”  
  
Beca sat up straight and regarded him pitifully.  
  
“And you thought _Why’d you stab those guys?_ was the way to save the situation?”  
  
Jesse glared. “I panicked.”  
  
“The situation didn’t need saving,” said Benji.  
  
He was sat cross-legged on the floor next to his bed, and had been poking at the PKE metre and making notes ever since they’d got back. He held his messy scribblings up for them to see.  
  
“The PKE readings from the ninety seconds Beca had Gertrude distracted is still a gold mine. This type of data on the paranormal is unprecedented. It’s applications are potentially limitless.”  
  
Beca quirked an eyebrow, her intrigue stirred. “Define limitless.”  
  
“For starters? If the ionization rate is constant for all spiritual beings, we could theoretically actually capture and hold a ghost.”  
  
They each shared a cautiously grin at the mere thought of that, but the moment was spoiled when there was a heavy knock at the dorm room door. Instantly, panic sprang up and filled the whole room, and their one, collective, petrified thought was: Gertrude.  
  
The gruff, male voice that spoke from the other side of the door put that fear to rest, but did not exactly mean they were out of the woods.  
  
“NYPD,” said the voice. “Open up.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jesse was the one to get up and open the door, but Beca and Benji were close behind him, peering over his shoulder to see a short, irritated, uniformed NYPD officer standing in the hallway. Next to him was another man, not quite uniformed but wearing the shirt, tie and tweed blazer that unmistakably marked him out as a college professor; more so than the officer, the sight of this man caused Beca the most worry.  
  
“Dad?”  
  
Her father looked about as angry as she’d ever seen him. “You’ve really done it this time, Bec.”  
  
“Which one of you is Benji Applebaum?” said the cop. Behind Jesse, Benji bemusedly raised his hand. The officer produced a small, Star Wars themed wallet from his jacket pocket, and tossed it to Benji.  
  
“Hey, my wallet!” he said gleefully. “I didn’t even realise it was missing. I must have dropped it at the…”  
  
He, Jesse and Beca went very still. From his pocket, the cop also fished out a clear plastic bag containing Benji’s lock picking tools.  
  
“Wanna tell me what you three were doing at the Aldridge Mansion this evening?”  
  
The Aldridge Mansion, it turned out, had a pretty nice security system. The officer, once they let him inside the dorm, explained how they had tripped an alarm during their forced entry. A museum staff member had found Benji’s wallet, containing his Columbia University ID card, and contacted the police.  
  
“You kids are pretty lucky,” said the officer. They were sat on Benji’s bed silently as he spoke, like three children being scolded for not doing their chores. “The nice folks at the Aldridge Mansion aren’t pressing any charges.”  
  
“They’re not?” asked Beca in confusion. Surely, she thought, the museum had them red handed.  
  
“You don’t have to sound so upset about that,” said her Dad from Jesse’s desk chair.  
  
“They just requested I give you a stern warning,” said the officer.  
  
Jesse turned to Beca, a knowing look on his face. “And I‘m guessing they‘d like us to keep quiet about anything we saw in there?”  
  
The cop shrugged. “Probably. All I know is, if you kids try and play break in again, you might not be so lucky. You’re really terrible criminals.”  
  
The officer spoke briefly to Beca’s Dad, then took his leave. Theoretically, that should have been the end of the matter. Yet nobody moved. Dr Mitchell sat there, arms folded, staring down at the carpet and shaking his head slowly.  
  
“Dad…” Beca started.  
  
“God damn it, Beca,” he interrupted. “All I wanted was for you to get a good education. Do you know how many people would kill for a free ride to this university? I know you had other ideas, but we had a deal. You give college a shot, and if it‘s not for you, I can say I tried. And for that, this what I get. Breaking and entering?”  
  
Beca gripped the edge of Benji‘s bed sheets, feeling her temper rising. “Dad, you don’t understand what we’ve seen tonight.”  
  
“Do you understand what I’ve seen?” said Dr Mitchell, gesturing to the door the officer had left through. “My own daughter questioned by NYPD?”  
  
“Dr Mitchell,” said Jesse, “Just let us explain.”  
  
“He doesn’t want to hear explanations,” Beca laughed bitterly. “He just wants to give another lecture on how much of a dead end my life would be if he wasn’t forcing a college education upon me.”  
  
“Oh, there won’t be any more lectures. It’s too late for that. Columbia University doesn‘t tolerate this kind of stuff.” He stood up from his chair and sighed, like he was deeply disappointed but tired of the fight. “Congratulations, Bec. You got your wish. As of tomorrow, you’re all expelled.”

* * *

 

“I feel terrible,” said Benji. “The whole breaking and entering thing was my idea.”  
  
After a night of hardly any sleep, the morning had brought the difficult task of packing up all of their things. They were currently hauling heavy boxes across the Columbia U campus, aware of the stares from other students walking past them. Jesse and Benji’s enthusiasm for the paranormal had made them fairly infamous, and news of their expulsion had spread pretty quickly.  
  
“Don‘t be dumb,” said Jesse, nudging Benji with his elbow, “We’re all adults, we knew what we were getting into. And besides, we can appeal against this. If we can just make them understand what we accomplished with that little field trip, they’ll be begging us to come back.”  
  
Beca, who had hardly spoken a word since last night, came to a stop. The talk of appealing, of begging and pleading to come back, did not sit well with her. She surveyed their surroundings, the long stretches of green laid out in front of the many prestigious buildings, and the beginnings of an epiphany began to brew.  
  
“Nah,” she said, letting the box she carried drop to the floor. “Screw that. Screw appealing. We don’t need this place and we never did.”  
  
“Beca, where else can we go?” asked Benji. “We were expelled for breaking the law. No other college will touch us with a ten meter cattle prod.”  
  
“College?” she said, turning to Benji, her hair in the wind and her wide eyes making her look ever so slightly manic. “What the hell do we need college for? Half the people with college degrees end up working at the Post Office anyway.”  
  
“Actually I’ve heard the Post Office pays pretty well,” said Benji.  
  
Jesse nodded. “That’s true, actually. I have an uncle that works there.”  
  
Beca rolled her eyes. “ _The point_ is that we can prove the existence of ghosts! If we brought that to a Professor, what would we get? A passing grade? A nice write-up in the school paper? I say we bid this dump adieu, and go into business for ourselves!”  
  
She flung out her arms theatrically, but their reactions were slightly more subdued than she‘d hoped for.  
  
“So, what,” said Jesse, “you want to start some kind of ghost busting business? Businesses cost money, Beca, and we’re three college drop outs with criminal records. How are we possibly gonna finance something like that?”  
  
“We could get loans,” she said defensively. Then, in a much quieter voice, she added “The interest rates might just be a little not-awesome, because of the whole expelled, criminal record stuff.”  
  
“Not awesome?” he repeated. “Try ‘astronomical’.”  
  
“Jesse, think about this! Professional paranormal investigations and elimination - that’s not a niche market, that’s a market that doesn’t exist yet. We’d be the innovators!”  
  
Jesse scoffed, and she saw his eyes reading her like a book. “Is this about starting a business or is this about proving to your Dad that you can be a success without his help?”  
  
“The first one!” she said, though if Jesse and Benji’s expressions were anything to go by, her voice was just a tad too high and squeaky to be believable. A deep, angry growl escaped her and she practically clawed at her hair in frustration. “Okay, fine! I hate that my Dad judges success by academic achievement. I hate that he’ll take my expulsion from this place as confirmation of that philosophy. And nothing in the world will make me happy until I shove that philosophy down his throat!”  
  
Benji gave her a pitying look. “Oh, Rebecca. Who hurt you?”  
  
“Shut up!” she said. There was a bench a few feet away, and she found jumped over her box so she could hop onto it. The speech she felt brewing inside her felt like a sermon, and the bench was the closest thing she had to a pulpit. “Because maybe this is partly about me, but damnit it’s also about you. You guys have spent your whole lives believing in ghosts. You staked your professional reputations on that belief. Now that blind faith has been rewarded with hard proof and you’re just gonna ignore that to focus on trying to get back into a college that doesn’t even want you? That’s not fair. Not fair to you or to anyone else out there that knows this stuff is real. What about the owners of the Aldridge Mansion, who have a crazy murder ghost living in their museum? What about the guy in Queens who emailed you asking for help with the poltergeist in his tool shed? Who’s supposed to help those people,  Jesse? Who are they supposed to call?”  
  
She stopped only to take a breath, hoping her eyes didn’t look too desperate while she tried to gauge their reactions. Benji looked quietly contemplative, but he was hard to read on most days anyway. Jesse‘s expression, on the other hand, was almost hostile. It took a few seconds before Beca realised: he was angry at how much sense she was making.  
  
“God damn you, Mitchell,” he finally sighed.  
  
“Yas!” Beca screeched, drawing the looks of some other students in the quad as she punched the air. Jesse ignored this, turning instead to Benji.  
  
“She’s right. If our math is right, and we can actually build this spectral containment unit, we don’t need college.”  
  
“My math has only ever been wrong once,” replied Benji, “and I lost a toe. After that I always made sure to double check. We can build this.”  
  
Beca, after instinctively glancing down at Benji’s shoe-covered feet and wondering which toe was missing, hopped off the bench and gave Jesse an affectionate shoulder punch.  
  
“You’re not gonna regret this, Jesse. I promise. We’re gonna help a lot of people, and when we do, Columbia will be begging us to come back so we can cut the ribbon on the lecture halls they name after us.”  
  
“You’re nuts,” said Jesse, grinning despite himself. And Beca felt such a swell of pride when she saw him hop up onto the same bench she had been on.  “All those people out there,” he said, looking around the grounds wistfully, “with spirits in their homes and no one that believes them. No one to call. Well now they do. Now they can call us. They can call ‘The Conductors Of The Metaphysical Examination’!”  
  
The swell of pride went away. Beca frowned.  
  
“I was thinking more like ‘Ghostbusters’ or something,” she said.  
  
“Ghostbusters, right?” Benji agreed almost immediately.  
  
“You were thinking Ghostbusters too?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, he literally said the phrase ‘ghost busting business’ like two minutes ago, I just assumed…”  
  
Beca nodded and turned apologetically to Jesse. “Your thing is just a little bit of a mouthful, y’know?”  
  
Jesse sighed and stepped down to the floor. “Screw you guys. Let’s go get in some debt.”  
  
She threw an arm around each of them as they walked off the university grounds for the last time.  
  
“And just think,” she said, “our first customer is out there somewhere, right now.”  
  


* * *

  
  
The walls of Aubrey’s hotel were thin. So while she and Chloe had spent the last three hours reviewing the audio recording of that day’s Bellas practice, so had all the other guests on that floor. The couple three rooms down had been five minutes away from calling down to the lobby to complain about ‘weird, poorly pitched mouth music’, when finally the noise had stopped.  
  
Now, Chloe was laid out on the bed, exhausted. Next to her, an equally tired Aubrey sighed.  
  
“I think I saw Bumper on Fifth Avenue today,” she said.  
  
Chloe grimaced. “It was only a matter of time before the Trebles came out here too. They need to rehearse just like us.”  
  
“I heard a rumour they’re trying to convince Lincoln Centre to let them use a smoke machine in their performance.”  
  
Chloe’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Tacky. Style over substance.”  
  
There was a beat of silence, and when Aubrey spoke again her voice was unsteady. “If they beat us again, Chloe, I swear to God…”  
  
Chloe instantly reached out to grab her hand. “Aubrey!”  
  
“I mean it. I can’t take another crushing defeat. I’ll leave the country. I won’t come to graduation. I’ll make them take my picture out of the yearbook.”  
  
“Aubrey Posen,” said Chloe, gripping the other girl’s wrist and making her look at Chloe’s stern gaze. “Your parents will kill you if you leave the country. I’ll kill you if you don’t come with me to graduation. And you are so pretty that if your picture wasn’t in the yearbook, they probably wouldn’t bother publishing it.”  
  
Aubrey’s face softened. “Aw, Chlo.”  
  
Chloe smiled. “Don’t worry about Bumper. We’re gonna show that midget up this year. I promise.”  
  
A huge yawn immediately followed that sentence, and Chloe found herself closing her eyes and snuggling into a comfier position on the bed. A minute more like that and she would have been fast asleep, if not for Aubrey asking her: “So, you’re crashing here tonight? Again?”  
  
Chloe’s eyes flew back open. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Is that okay?”  
  
Aubrey sat up straight on the bed, looking Chloe over with a worried gaze.  
  
“It’s fine, it’s just… you have this massive apartment in the middle of the city. With a killer view! I thought I’d be having to drag you out of it just to get you to practice.”  
  
“If you want me to leave,” said Chloe stiffly.  
  
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “Chloe, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just confused.”  
  
Chloe lay still on the bed for a second, digging around frantically for the courage to move. Finally she swung her legs around to the side of the bed and stood up.  
  
“No, you’re right. I should go.”  
  
Aubrey frowned. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”  
  
“No, seriously, it’s fine. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on the place anyway, and I haven’t been there in three days. Plus, my parents bought groceries and - ” Burning paper bags and eggs frying upon a counter flashed through her mind, and her voice cracked. “ - um. Yeah. I should go. I’ll call you in the morning.”  
  
“Okay,” said Aubrey weakly, watching Chloe gather up her things, throw her a quick wave, and rush out the door.  
  
It was all very bizarre, but Chloe could be like that sometimes. Aubrey figured she’d check on her again after tomorrow’s practice, and prepared to settle in to bed.  
  
But after barely two minutes, there was a soft knock at her hotel door. She frowned, and went to answer it.  
  
In the doorway stood Chloe. She was pale, and the beginnings of tears were forming in her eyes.  
  
“Aubrey,” she said. “I can’t go home."


	4. Chapter 4

Beca gave a cautious glance up the street, taking note of all the ‘colourful’ characters that hung around this part of Lower Manhattan. Days earlier, when Benji told them he’d found a perfect location for their business in TriBeCa, she’s been expecting some sort of trendy, loft-style building. From her spot on the sidewalk, she looked up at what he’d actually purchased: an abandoned and decaying firehouse, situated on a street so shifty that Bruce Wayne’s parents could have been murdered there.  
  
“You ready, Miss?” said the workman perched atop a ladder in front of her.  
  
She gave him a thumbs up. “Light her up, Marty.”  
  
He connected some wires and, above the tall wooden firehouse doors, a neon image of a cartoon ghost caught in a circular trap - ‘no ghosts allowed’ -began to glow. Beca grinned proudly. She had scrawled the logo on the back of their business loan paperwork before they’d even left the bank, and now here it was in front of her, adorning the entrance way to the headquarters of their new company, and shining brightly. She had a company, a logo, and was even wearing a shirt and tie. Perhaps this is what it was like to be an adult, she thought.  
  
Her next thought was: is that sign supposed to be that bright? Even on this sunny New York afternoon, the logo was hurting Beca’s eyes. It only continued to grow more and more luminous, until there was a small _pfft_ sound, and then it went out completely.  
  
“Damn fuse must’ve blown,” said the workman. “I’ll get right on it.”  
  
Beca nodded, self-consciously straightened her skinny tie, and headed inside the firehouse. The ground floor was practically one, big, spacious garage. But in place of the grand, red fire truck that had once sat on it’s cobbles, there was an ugly, beaten-up, jet black hearse. Benji was under the hood of it, pulling at various wires.  
  
“You ever get the feeling this place has a deep, dark past?” she asked him.  
  
“I think it’s charming,” he said, looking up at the building with all it’s crumbling paintwork and rusty metal support columns.  
  
“It was cheap,” said Beca, “that’s all that matters to me.” She gave a swift kick to the wheel of the car. “Which is more than I can say for this heap of crap.”  
  
At her feet, Jesse rolled out from underneath the car, his face covered in both oil and offence.  
  
“This is a 1959 Miller-Meteor Cadillac,” he stated. “It’s a jewel of American automobile history. And aside from anything else, calling it a ‘heap of junk’ really hurts my feelings.”  
  
“Spending five grand on a car that doesn’t even run hurts my feelings!”  
  
“Ugh,” Jesse rolled his eyes, and pushed himself back under the car. “Again with this ‘doesn’t run’ stuff. Stop worrying! I’ll have this old girl purring again before sundown. Then me and Benji will give her a sweet paintjob, put some of our new toys on the roof, she’ll look like a million bucks. Right, buddy?”  
  
Benji looked around the hood and called out, “Absolutely!” Then he looked to Beca, and gave a silently grave shake of his head.  
  
Beca smushed her face into her hand. She left them to their tinkering and walked towards the far end of the room, where the floor turned from cobbles to carpet, and a low wooden barrier walled off a little office area of sorts - formerly belonging to the firehouse Captain and claimed by Beca the moment she laid eyes on it. Just in front of this, though, was another desk that belonged to their one and only employee.  
  
“Hey, Kimmy-Jin,” she said, offering their young college intern a grin. “How’s it going? Has there been any calls for me? Or us? Or our services? Like, any interest or customers at all?”  
  
Reluctantly, the girl put down the phone she‘d been poking at, but said nothing.  
  
“…you do speak English, right?” Kimmy-Jin raised an eyebrow. Beca forced a laugh. “Just kidding. Unless you don‘t, in which case I wasn’t.” Kimmy-Jin merely leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. Beca cleared her throat awkwardly. “Okay, so moving on, I have a couple of things I need you to do for me. Firstly could you call the patent office and tell them we applied for some trademarks and they haven’t gotten back to us yet - Benji is mildly worried that we have the same name as an old cartoon show, so we need that sorted out ASAP. Secondly, there’s a weird black stain up on the third floor, and I was wondering if you can post a picture of it on Yahoo Answers and see if someone can tell us if it’s mould or damp or something worse. And thirdly, when you get a free minute, if you could just tell me where you’re at with English, that would be a great help.”  
  
She turned quickly on her heels, afraid of the girl’s reaction, and hopped over the banister into her office. Collapsing into her own chair, she checked the date on her own phone. A week of being open and not a single customer. If something didn’t change soon, their logo wouldn’t be the only thing burning out fast.  
  


* * *

  
The sound of the door being unlocked woke Chloe up. She looked up from the bed to see Aubrey entering the hotel room.  
  
“How did it go?” she asked softly.  
  
Aubrey closed the door behind her and dropped her gym bag on the floor. “Better. Jessica and Ashley have stopped stepping on each other’s toes during _Eternal Flame_.”  
  
Chloe managed the smallest of smiles. “You’ll make dancers of them yet.”  
  
Aubrey came to the foot of the bed. “They asked about you.”  
  
“What did you tell them?”  
  
Aubrey shrugged. “Said you were sick. But they were worried about you.”  
  
The ‘I’m worried about you too’ was unspoken, but hung in the air for a few seconds anyway.  
  
Chloe pulled the sheets back and sat up straight in bed. She took a breath to decide on her next words, wondering if perhaps she should take back everything she had said last night. Perhaps try and convince her it was joke, that there was nothing wrong with her parents’ apartment, that she hadn’t seen things that should have been impossible. But she knew she’d never be able to pull such a lie off. Not when the truth was still blaring in her head like an air horn, demanding to be addressed, demanding to be explained.  
  
“I’m not crazy,” she said, looking Aubrey right in the eyes.  
  
Aubrey sighed. “I didn’t say you were.”  
  
“But you don’t believe me?”  
  
“I believe that you believe you saw what you saw.” Chloe rolled her eyes and started walking towards the bathroom. Aubrey persisted. “Chloe, you hear about this thing all the time. A person gets spooked, their mind plays tricks because of all the adrenaline and fear rushing through their body, and in the end there was a perfectly logical explanation the whole time.”  
  
Chloe stopped in her path and turned back to her. “I saw a temple in the fridge, Aubrey. There were clouds above it, and lightning, and something spoke to me.”  
  
Aubrey nodded slowly, and took a step towards Chloe, running caring hands up and down her friend’s arms. “Look, I know the stress of the ICCAs and beating the Trebles is making us all a little crazy…”  
  
Chloe scrunched her eyes shut and clenched her fists to stop herself from screaming. She took another breath, made her face clear of rage, reached out to hold Aubrey’s hands.  
  
“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, “let’s talk about this later.”  
  
She saw Aubrey’s face fall as she turned away and opened the door to the tiny bathroom.  
  
“Chlo?” she called out. Chloe stopped in the doorway. “I might not understand. But I want to help. In any way I can.”  
  
Chloe softened. Aubrey never could deal with situations that were beyond her meticulous control. This was no different.  
  
“I know,” she said, as patiently as possible. Then she closed the door behind her, and rested her head upon it.  
  
Maybe she was going crazy. Maybe the stress of school work, the Bellas, and stopping Aubrey from having her own mental break down had been too much. But then she remembered seeing cracks in the stone steps that led up to the temple. She remembered the hide on the creature that called to her, how it was thick like tree bark. Would her senses deceive her to such graphic lengths?  
  
Frustrated, she took out her phone and attempted to search the internet for proof of her sanity. She typed ‘stress induced phenomena’ into Google. The first few results were Wikipedia pages, or psychology journal articles. But right down toward the bottom of the page, a link caught her eye.  
  
_‘Phenomena? Phenom-a-no-way! Call the Ghostbusters!’_  
  
There was no way she wasn’t clicking that.  
  
The site it took her to was basic, no more fancy than your average tumblr blog. _‘New York-based Paranormal Invesitgators,’_ it said. _‘Backed up by real science - no nonsense!’_ At the top of a page was a picture of three people, two guys and a girl who looked to be around her age. They were standing in front of what seemed to be an old firehouse, wearing white coats and pointing directly into the camera. The caption read: _‘You’re not crazy. We’re ready to believe you!’_  
  
Chloe threw the bathroom door open so suddenly that Aubrey jumped in fright.  
  
“Hey, so remember when you said you wanted to help in any way you could?”

* * *

  
Chloe peered around the door to the firehouse. There was no one in sight, but that was mostly because a bulky old car was taking up most of her view. She heard Aubrey _tut_ behind her.  
  
“Maybe this isn’t a great idea,” she said, glancing around the building.  
  
“Aubrey, we just got here. We haven’t even spoken to anyone yet.”  
  
“Then it’s a perfect time to turn back. Lots of people on the internet wear white coats and say they can help you. It’s almost always a con.”  
  
This, Chloe realised, was a fair point. And yet the urge to find someone who she could speak to about what had happened, someone who wouldn’t look at her with that pitying look that Aubrey did, pushed her to step fully into the firehouse.  
  
They walked around the big car, briefly noticing a pair of legs sticking out from under it and the sound of wrench being turned. Finally, she spotted some sort of office area at the back of the ground floor, and a table placed in front of that which she guessed was a reception. She approached the young girl who was sat there.  
  
“Hi. Um, is this the Ghostbusters?”  
  
The girl had been very focused on her phone, but when she looked up at Chloe it was with a deep frown, as though someone approaching her at this receptionist desk was practically unheard of.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Chloe added, “I don’t have an appointment or anything. Is there any chance someone is free to --”  
  
A blur with brown hair shot out of the office area. The woman, the same one Chloe had seen online, had sprang out of her chair and attempted to jump over the banister, but in her hurry she had caught her foot on it, and ended up falling face first into the hard, stone floor. Aubrey gasped and looked ready to run, but Chloe rushed forward to help the woman to her feet.  
  
“Oh my god, are you okay?”  
  
“Who, me?” said the woman, blowing hair out of her face and pretending to not be in incredible pain. “I’m fine. Are you guys? Are you okay? You two?”  
  
Chloe glanced at Aubrey in bewilderment. “We’re fine.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“We’re not the ones who just fell over a wall,” said Aubrey pointedly.  
  
“Right,” said the woman. “True. That was just me. Awesome.” She smoothed down her shirt and straightened her skinny tie. “Hi. I’m Beca Mitchell. Can I help you?”  
  
Again, Chloe looked to Aubrey, who could only shrug in response.  
  
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, turning back to Beca. “What I have to say is… pretty weird.”  
  
Beca chuckled. “That’s pretty much all we get, day in and day out around this place.”  
  
“You’re literally the first customer we’ve ever had,” said the girl behind the reception desk.  
  
Beca glared at her. “Oh, so now you speak English?”


	5. Chapter 5

Chloe went to Paris in between her senior year of high school and her freshman year of college. In amongst the big flashy designer outlets, there were tiny little stores hidden away in side streets, and whenever tourists would wander in, the staff would just about fall over themselves in excitement at the prospect of a sale.  
  
She was reminded of this as she watched the Ghostbusters flail, bicker, and bump into one another as they attempted to make her comfortable.  
  
Beca had quickly ushered her and Aubrey upstairs and she enlisted the help of her cohorts Benji and Jesse, the other two guys she’d seen on her phone. The second floor of the firehouse was just as much of a mismatch as the downstairs office/parking lot situation. Piles of moving boxes, a pool table, what might have been a half-built 3D printer, and various other pieces of scientific equipment with unclear functions.  
  
Jesse pulled up some chairs in the centre of the room and sat her and  Aubrey down. Benji carefully placed little sensor pads on either side of her temple, with wires coming out of them and running along the floor to connect into Benji’s laptop. And then all too quickly, everyone stopped hurrying and dashing about, and sat down to look at Chloe. It was time for the part she had dreaded: telling her story.  
  
“And I heard a voice say ‘Zuul’. Then I slammed the refrigerator door and left. That was three days ago, and I haven’t been back there since.”  
  
Her eyes had been on the floor the entire time she’d relayed her tale, nervously fiddling with the sensor wires. But once it was done, Chloe had no choice but to look up and endure their disbelieving gazes.  
  
Except that’s not how the Ghostbusters were looking at her. On the contrary, Beca and her cohorts looked enthralled. They seemed to have pulled their chairs closer to her own, like spellbound children around a camp fire.  
  
“You’re so lucky,” Jesse let slip.  
  
“Dude,” said Beca. “Read the room.”  
  
“I mean,” he added quickly, giving Chloe a warm smile. “Obviously that must have been very scary. But I’ve personally waited decades for a paranormal encounter like that. The closest I ever came was a lame unexplained, undersea, mass sponge migration. And the sponge only migrated about a foot and a hafl!”  
  
Beca cleared her throat and spoke as delicately as she could. “Chloe, I’m gonna ask you some quick questions, just standard procedure. Had you been drinking on the day in question?”  
  
Chloe tried not to be too offended, guessing that Aubrey was probably offended enough on her behalf. “No.”  
  
“Does your family have history of paranoid or delusional episodes?”  
  
“No,” she said again, surprised when Aubrey awkwardly raised a hand.  
  
“Sorry,“ she said, “but what about when your uncle held up traffic on the George Washington Bridge and told everybody he was a Jedi?”  
  
Beca looked from Aubrey to Chloe. “I mean, I’d call that a big yes, personally.”  
  
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Yeah, except he _had_ been drinking on the day in question.”  
  
Beca waved a hand to say this didn‘t qualify, and then seemingly grew very interested the hem of her shirt before talking again. “And lastly, are you seeing anyone right now?”  
  
Next to her, Aubrey let out a weird _huff_ noise of indignation. “What does that have to do with anything?”.  
  
Beca gave her a cautioning glance. “Back off, lady. I’m a scientist.”  
   
“Her readings are normal,” Benji thankfully announced before she had to answer. He turned the laptop towards them, and she saw weird lines running all across the screen, which she presumed represented the many electrical signals firing off in her brain. “Everything she’s saying, she’s in her right mind as she says it.”  
  
“What does that mean, exactly?” asked Chloe, unsure if she should be offended or not.  
  
Jesse grinned at her. “He means you’re telling the truth.”  
  
“So,” said Beca, pushing her chair forward to remove the sensors from either side of her head. Chloe tensed at the momentary personal space invasion. “Time to shout out some theories, boys. Brainstorming rules, no bad ideas.”  
  
Jesse and Benji caught each others gaze as though it was Christmas morning.  
  
“Could be flashbacks from a previous lifetime?” Jesse offered.  
  
“Maybe they’re not even her memories,” Benji replied, seeing and raising. “Maybe she’s clairvoyant and she’s picking up somebody else’s experiences?”  
  
Jesse doubled down. “Maybe even someone’s experiences from a totally separate parallel universe!”  
  
Chloe held up a halting hand. “Whoa, guys. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in any of that stuff.”  
  
Beca was carefully placing the sensor equipment back into a box when she asked, “Do you believe in weird terror dogs that live inside fridges?”  
  
“Well, no.”  
  
“And yet,” said Beca, meeting her gaze, “here you are.”  
  
Chloe had no reply. Beca’s little smirk was… annoying. Jesse and Benji’s delight at her ordeal was annoying too, sure, but at least it was obvious. Beca was another story. Her whole demeanour of somehow treating this entire thing like business as usual and yet not appearing to take any of it at all seriously throwing Chloe off.  
  
“It happened,” said Chloe. “I don’t know how, I don’t why. I just want to know what to do next. That’s why I’m here.”  
  
“You say that like it was your fault,” Jesse pointed out. “But it’s entirely probable you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We should get hold of the building’s schematics and take a look at them. Maybe there’s something screwy with the way the whole place was put together that leaves it predisposed to supernatural turbulence?”  
  
“Also,” added Benji thoughtfully. “The name Zuul sounds weirdly familiar to me. I feel like I’ve read it somewhere.”  
  
“ _Tobin’s Spirit Guide_?” Jesse offered.  
  
Benji shook his head. “I know that back to front, it might have been _Spates Catalogue_. But I don’t have a hard copy of that, I’d have to check one out of the Public Library.”  
  
Chloe nodded encouragingly, though she didn’t understands the specifics of what they were proposing. But they were both getting up and pulling on jackets, and it just felt so good to see someone finally doing something about this after three days of trying to forget it.  
  
Jesse turned to the only Ghostbusters still sitting down. “Beca, maybe you should check out Chloe’s - ”  
  
Beca’s head swung away from Chloe, toward Jesse. “I’m not checking out Chloe!”  
  
There was pause. Everybody stared.  
  
“…’s apartment,” Jesse finished carefully. “I was going to say, maybe you should check out Chloe’s apartment?”  
  
“Oh,” said Beca, her cheeks already filling with flush. “Right. Cool. Good idea.”  
  


* * *

  
Beca found herself watching Aubrey, during the awkwardly silent elevator ride up to Chloe’s apartment. It was pretty easy to tell that Aubrey didn’t really believe Chloe’s story. Though her support for her friend was obvious, it was after all hard to believe a tale that defied the laws of physics when you hadn‘t been there yourself. And yet, Beca noticed, she was just as nervously quiet as everyone else in that elevator. Her eyes were locked on the floor numbers above the doors, each one lighting up in succession as the elevator rose, getting ever closer to their destination. Beca could practically hear the irrational voice in Aubrey’s brain asking _‘But what if?’_  
  
But then Beca’s gaze was drawn to Chloe, who was equally watchable but for totally different reasons. Chloe must have felt eyes on her though, because she glanced up and saw Beca. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. Beca merely smiled in response.  
  
At long last, the elevator dinged, and the doors drew themselves open.  
  
“Art deco,” said Beca, of the hallway’s décor. “Very nice.”  
  
“Thanks,” said Chloe quietly.  
  
She led Beca and Aubrey down to the end of the hall, arriving at her door and reaching into her pocket for the keys with fumbling hands. It looked like every inch of her wanted to run from this door and never come back, and that it was killing her that this wasn’t an option.  
  
And seeing this, Beca found herself suddenly saying: “Actually, maybe it would be better if I went in first.”  
  
“What?” asked Chloe.  
  
Aubrey too looked at her in confusion. “Why?”  
  
Beca shrugged. “It’s sort of company policy. Kind of a ‘If something happens, it should happen to us’ type thing. It’s dangerous. But it’s my job, miss.”  
  
Chloe hesitated for a second, but Beca saw her glance briefly at the door to her parents’ apartment, and suddenly she was stepping aside.  
  
“I mean, if it’s company policy…” she said, holding the keys out for Beca to take.  
  
Beca went to the front of the group, and unlocked the door. She carefully pushed it open, just enough for her to poke her head in. What she saw was, quite simply, beyond belief.  
  
“Oh my god,” she gasped.  
  
“What?” asked Aubrey from behind her. “What‘s wrong?  
  
Beca pushed the door fully open, revealing… Chloe’s apartment, exactly as it was supposed to be. Immaculate. Untouched.  
  
“This apartment is legitimately bigger than the house I grew up in!” she said.  
  
Aubrey glared, and promptly elbowed past Beca to walk into the room. Chloe, did too, but slower, in more of a daze. She walked right to the centre of the apartment, her eyes roaming over every inch of it; the baby pictures on the wall, the couches around the coffee table, the window looking out at the park where people were still strolling and cars were still honking and the world was still turning.  
  
“Okay,” she said, aloud but mostly to herself. “It’s still here. Sorry. I guess I just half expected it to have been swallowed up into hell, or something like that.”  
  
“Seriously, though,” said Beca, strolling around in awe. “What’s the monthly rent on this thing? Is it more or less than a year of college tuition?”  
  
Aubrey scowled at her for what had to be the billionth time. “Are you _sure_ you’re a scientist?”  
  
Beca shrugged modestly. “I get that a lot. Society has preconceived notions about intellectuals that I don’t necessarily conform to.”  
  
“What about Game Show Hosts?” asked Aubrey. “Are you trying to conform to society‘s preconceived notion of a Game Show Host?”  
  
Beca gave a hollow laugh, tugging at the lapels of the tweed blazer she‘d thrown on before leaving the firehouse. “I _am_ a scientist. The only one in the room right now, so maybe you should just let me work.” She turned to Chloe, only half listening to them bicker. “Ms Beale, why don’t you walk us through what happened the last time you were here.”  
  
“Hm?” said Chloe, coming back to the room. “Oh, right. Well, it’s pretty straightforward. I came in, dropped my gym bag, started running a bath and _oh my god I left the water running!_ ”  
  
A ginger blur shot towards the bathroom door, and Beca and Aubrey were left staring at the spot were Chloe had been standing.  
  
Aubrey sighed. “Can you please just tell her everything’s ok so she can stop torturing herself?”  
  
“Is everything okay?” Beca asked pointedly.  
  
Aubrey glanced about the room. “Obviously.”  
  
“Cool,” Beca nodded. “Then do me a favour: go grab some snacks from the fridge.”  
  
Aubrey’s eyes flicked towards the kitchen door for a second. She made no move to do as she was asked. Beca winked at her.  
  
“That’s what I thought,” she said, turning to walk towards the opposite door, which was the one Chloe had burst through.  
  
The bathroom she stepped into was equally as lavish and spacious as the living room. Chloe was stood there, quite still, peering down at the bathtub like it was something from outer space.  
  
“It’s empty,” she said.  
  
Beca came to stand next to her, looking down at the tub too.  
  
“It’s definitely empty,” she confirmed.  
  
“I turned the tap on three days ago,” said Chloe slowly, as if getting the facts straight in her own head. “And I never turned it off. This whole room should be flooded. The whole apartment. What are you doing?”  
  
Beca had swung her leg over the threshold and was climbing into the tub, ducking to avoid being struck by the shower head hanging above it.  
  
“Getting a better look,” she said casually.  
  
“What exactly are you hoping to find in there?”  
  
“Well,” said Beca, bouncing up on her heels slightly to test the weight. “It’s sturdy. Good craftsmanship. Italian, if I had to guess.”  
  
Chloe looked to be done with jokes. “Beca - ”  
  
“The soap,” said Beca.  
  
“…what?”  
  
Beca bent down to pick up the bar of soap that had been lying innocently in the bathtub. “It’s fully intact. If the tub had been full of water for three days, this bar would be all gross and half decomposed. But look at it, it looks brand new. If your tub did magically drain itself, it did so pretty quick, most likely on the day you ran out of here.”  
  
Chloe frowned at the soap like it was personally disagreeing with her. She clambered into the tub herself and pulled the hand with which Beca was holding it towards her.  
  
“Hey,” Beca lightly protested. “You can’t just jump into a shower with me, we barely know each other.”  
  
Chloe didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead she examined the soap Beca was holding. It was fully solid, without a single chunk missing. She looked down at the tub they were standing in.  
  
“So my fridge talks and my bathtub knows how to stop itself flooding. Awesome. I‘m officially crazy.”  
  
Beca placed a hand over the one Chloe was holding her wrist with.  
  
“You’re not crazy,” said Beca, with a long and hopefully meaningful look. “Not by my standards.”  
  
Chloe gave her a withering look. “Thanks. That makes me feel _so_ much better.”  
  
The door to the bathroom opened suddenly. Aubrey appeared, but anything she was preparing to say died when she saw Chloe and Beca, standing in a bathtub, Chloe’s hand holding Beca’s wrist, Beca’s hand covering Chloe‘s.  
  
Chloe sighed. “Don’t start, this isn’t what it looks like.”  
  
“It’s really not,” confirmed Beca. “Chloe was just helping me pick up this bar of soap.” Beca paused, then added “I’d like to take another run at that sentence, if it’s cool with you guys?”  
  
“You came here to check the kitchen,” Aubrey reminded her. “Not the bathroom.”  
  
She held the door open expectantly, and Beca muttered complaints under her breath as she clumsily climbed out of the tub and walked through it, not seeing the _‘srsly wtf?’_ look that Aubrey gave to Chloe once her back was turned.  
  
The kitchen, Beca found upon entering it, was the only room in the apartment not obsessively arranged and tidy as can be. It was a mess.  
  
“So… yeah…” said Chloe, stepping into the kitchen with Aubrey and gesturing towards the chaos.  
  
Beca approached the kitchen island in the centre of the room and examined the counter top. According to Chloe’s story, there had once been two grocery bags, but now there was barely one. The was black ash covering the whole counter which Beca guessed were the remains of one bag, and the other was torn to bits, the groceries once inside it now littering the rest of the worktop. There was charred avocado and burnt kale everywhere. Beca poked at the cold, rubbery egg whites to make sure they were real.  
  
“So the eggs really fried, huh?”  
  
“Yep,” Chloe nodded. “The counter got freakishly hot, freakishly fast.”  
  
“Oh, Chloe,” Aubrey whispered, coming to see for herself. “This must have been awful.” She picked up a clear bag of what had once been fluffy, round marshmallows, but was now just a collection of goop.  
  
“Stay Puft,” said Beca, noticing the little sailor/marshmallow man character on the bag, grinning boyishly at them. “Nice choice. Jesse loves those things.”  
  
“So when did the fridge start, um, growling?” Aubrey asked.  
  
Everybody turned to look at the large white household appliance, standing innocently in the corner of the room, almost as though they were expecting it to answer for itself. It didn’t, of course.  
  
“Right as I was about to run for my life,” Chloe muttered.  
  
There was another pause, and then Aubrey elbowed Beca.  
  
“Well?” she said. “Aren’t you going to open it?”  
  
Beca elbowed her back. “Kitten, you seem to be so dead set on ordering everyone around, why don’t you go and open it?”  
  
“Because we’re paying you to open it!” Aubrey yelled.  
  
“Shut up,” Chloe pleaded, and they both fell silent. She looked at the fridge, and asked Beca, “Do you think it might still be in there? That… _creature?_ ”  
  
There would have been a time when the only thing stopping Beca from waltzing towards the fridge and casually throwing it open, was coming up with a suitably sarcastic one liner she could drop to highlight the stupidity of believing in ghosts. But she’d been to the Aldridge Mansion since then. She’d watched Gertrude Aldridge lash out at her, and rip into the wall behind her head.  
  
So instead she gave Chloe the most confident smile she could muster, and forced her feet towards the fridge. She reached out for the handle, feeling the worried eyes of Chloe and Aubrey on her back, and opened the door.  
  
Never in the history of the world had someone been so happy to see old Chinese takeout and a meatloaf inside a plastic container.  
  
“It’s okay,” she sighed, pushing the fridge door wide open for them to see it‘s very ordinary contents. “It’s fine.”  
  
Aubrey looked as relieved as Beca, but not Chloe. She marched towards the fridge and stuck her head inside it.  
  
“No,” she said. “No. No, no, no. This wasn’t… this was all gone. There was no food here, it wasn’t even a fridge anymore. There was a whole sky in there! And some sort of temple, and a four legged thing, and I heard a voice say Zuul!”  
  
“Nobody’s saying that didn’t happen,” said Beca carefully.  
  
“So where is it then?” Chloe snapped.  
  
Beca could only look at the fridge and shrug. Chloe slammed the door and walked back to the counter. Aubrey came to her side and placed a comforting and, Beca thought, slightly patronising hand on her shoulder. Perhaps Aubrey had been happier than Beca to see nothing but a normal fridge interior. The laws of physics as Aubrey Posen knew them remained constant and unchallenged.  
  
“Beca,” she said. “Would you say, in your professional opinion, that there’s any reason Chloe can’t stay here? Anything worrying or unsafe about this apartment?”  
  
Chloe looked up at her. “No,” said Beca, immediately hating herself when she saw Chloe turn away bitterly. “The counter top is weird but, other than that, this place seems totally fine.”  
  
Aubrey nodded. “I’ll tell you what,” she said to Chloe. “I’ll stay here with you tonight. We can order pizza, maybe watch a movie? It’ll be fun.”  
  
Beca saw Chloe hesitate, but ultimately give Aubrey a pretty obviously fake smile.  
  
“Great,” said Aubrey. “I’m gonna go grab some stuff and be back before you know it.”    
  
The almost thankful look Aubrey gave her as she left was just about the scariest thing Beca had seen all day.  
  
“Most people would be happy to not find a demon in their fridge,” Beca quipped, to break the silence that followed Aubrey’s exit.  
  
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t know what I expected you to find but… God, I just needed proof. I needed somebody to believe me.”  
  
“Dude,” said Beca incredulously. “Where do you think Jesse and Benji are right now? One of them is trying to charm his way into getting past any waiting periods for the blueprints on this whole city block, and the other one is trying to get past crippling social anxiety to ask a librarian if they have any books on refrigerator-based hauntings. We believe you. It’s literally written on our website.”  
  
“But Aubrey doesn’t.”  
  
“Aubrey’s a bitch!” she cried, immediately regretting it when Chloe gave her a look. Beca took a deep breath, came a little closer, and spoke a little softer. “Look, you’ve been through a lot. And respectfully, a bestie sleepover movie night isn’t going to help with that. I’m thinking we go get a drink, just me and you, unwind and maybe -”  
  
Evidently this pushed Chloe past the point of exasperation. “Oh my god.” she cried. “What is the matter with you? This is literally the most traumatic thing to ever happen to me, and you’re hitting on me?”  
  
Beca gasped. She spluttered. She clutched at her chest in offence. “First of all, how dare you. I am a consummate professional.”  
  
“Asking if I’m seeing someone is professional?”  
  
“That was standard procedure! And you never answered!”  
  
This time Chloe was the one that took a deep breath. “Look, I just think you should know -”  
  
Beca was already turning around to leave. “That you’re not into girls, yeah, yeah.”  
  
Without thinking, Chloe corrected her. “I never said I wasn’t into girls.”  
  
Beca whirled back around, rested her elbow on the counter, rested her hand in her palm, and grinned. “Is that so?”  
  
“What I was going to say,” Chloe continued, visibly putting a bit more space between them, “is that I just don’t think this is very appropriate. I’m hiring you to perform a service. So until then I’d appreciate it if you could stop all of… ” she gestured vaguely in Beca’s direction, “…this.”  
  
“Right,” said Beca thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying is, once the job is done, then I can take you out?”  
  
“What? No! What I’m saying is -”  
  
“No I gotcha,” said Beca, pushing off the counter and walking towards the door. “So I’ll fix your little problem, and then there won’t be anything inappropriate about…” she gestured vaguely in her own direction, “…all this.”  
  
“Beca,” said Chloe helplessly. “That’s not what I meant!”  
  
But Beca was already in the doorway, offering only her most dazzling/infuriating of smiles before she left. “Not to worry, Ms Beale. We will get to the bottom of your issue as _fast_ as humanely possible. I personally guarantee it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head I'm picturing Beca dressed exactly like Bill Murray was in the original movie. Stripey shirts, sweater vests, Professor blazers, everything. I invite you all to do this too. I think the rumpled, half-arsed attempt to look like an intellectual look would suit Beca well.


	6. Chapter 6

Late Friday evening, almost a whole week since Chloe had walked through their doors, Beca found herself once again sat in her office with nothing to do. Kimmy-Jin was intricately cutting leaves off a fancy plant at her desk, and every now and then she’d hear Benji on the floors above her, dropping a particularly heavy book to pick up another, but otherwise the building was silent. And it was starting to get to Beca.  
  
In lieu of better options, she decided to call their only existing customer. She got her voicemail.  
  
“Hey, Chloe, it’s Beca,” she said, suddenly aware that her mouth was dry and that she probably should have had a drink before this and god she probably sounded so weird and she should hang up. “Beca Mitchell. From the Ghostbusters? Just calling to give you an update. Um. There’s not much to update you with, sadly. Jesse is really trying to get the blueprints to your building, but there’s a ten-day waiting period, and when he tried to argue against this they got worried about why he desperately wanted structural information on midtown skyscrapers and threatened to detain him under suspicion of domestic terrorism, so yeah. Gonna have to wait that one out. Benji is searching pretty hard for where he heard the name ‘Zuul’, but as you can probably tell by looking at him, he’s read a lot of books, so it might take a while to come across the right one.  If you have any questions for us, or new information we should know, feel free to call us. Anytime. Things are…” she glanced around at the empty, silent firehouse, “…pretty quiet around here. Anyway. Yeah. Bye.”  
  
She put the phone down and sunk back into her chair.  
  
“That went terribly,” Kimmy-Jin commented, in between plant-cutting.  
  
“Thanks, kiddo,“ Beca replied. “You’re an indispensable asset to this organisation.”  
  
The firehouse doors creaked open, and Jesse walked in balancing three bags full of takeout.  
  
“Food’s here,” he yelled.  
  
“Thank god,” said Beca, dragging herself out of her chair.  
  
“Kimmy-Jin, you hungry?” Jesse asked, peeking around the plastic bags to look at their intern. “We always order way too much.”  
  
“Actually I was thinking about taking off early?”  
  
“Well,” Beca sighed, “I guess that’s okay, considering the complete lack of things for you to do. Just be here all the earlier tomorrow morning so we can get a head start on our day of nothingness.”  
  
They bid Kimmy-Jin goodnight and started climbing the stairs.  
  
“You’re worrying way too much,” said Jesse.  
  
“You’re only saying that because you spend all day out in the alley painting the dust-mobile. I get a front row seat to our complete lack of customers.”  
  
“That’s not strictly true,” said Benji. They had reached the second floor, and Benji caught the end of her sentence whilst clearing a table for them. “We have at least one customer.”  
  
“True,” Beca conceded. “And we’ve been on her case a week without anything to show for it.”  
  
“I’m reading as fast as I can!” said Benji defensively. “Jesse’s the one that got thrown out of Hall of Records.”  


“Let’s not play the blaming game,” cautioned Jesse as he began unloading the takeout boxes onto the table.  
  
“Still,” said Beca, pulling up a chair, “I don’t want her to think we don’t care. I should draw some petty cash and take her to dinner or something, as a goodwill gesture.”  
  
Jesse froze momentarily. “Uh, that might not be such a good idea.”  
  
Beca rolled her eyes. “It would be strictly professional, doofus.”  
  
“No, it’s just that this magnificent feast in front of you represents the last of the petty cash.”  
  
Beca felt her heart flinch. Benji, who had already picked up a carton of noodles and taken a bite, now looked afraid to swallow it.  
  
“Should I shlow down?” he asked with his mouth full. “Like, are we gonna need to mayke this lasht a few weeksh?”

 

* * *

  
Kimmy-Jin had just flung her back pack over her shoulder and was preparing to stand up, when the phone upon her desk rang. The very sound of it startled her. This was not a phone that rang often. Or ever in the entire time she’d worked here, actually.  
  
“Um… hello?” she said.   
  
The voice on the other end seemed just as hesitant about the conversation as Kimmy-Jin. He spoke very slowly, as though expecting to come to his senses before having to speak each successive sentence. But he explained his predicament in full and Kimmy-Jin bizarrely found herself telling him not worry, that he’d done the right thing in calling, and someone would be there to assist him within the hour. She put the phone down and walked upstairs in a daze, wondering if she’d been pranked until the very moment she was stood in front of her superiors, who were arguing over noodles.

 

“Hey,” said Beca, spotting her standing there. “What’s up?”

 

She looked at them in confusion. “…you have a customer.”

 

* * *

 

The next few moments were one huge blur to Beca. Everyone at the table jumped to their feet at the same time, nearly knocking the whole thing over. Jesse disappeared when she wasn’t looking, though she heard his voice yelling “The car, I’ll get the car, I’ll go get the car!” Benji had shot towards his work station at the other end of the room, muttering furiously to himself as he chose which of his new toys to take with them and which to leave behind. Kimmy-Jin was asking if this meant she couldn’t go home early. But truth be told Beca wasn’t really paying them any attention.

 

She’d been waiting for an excuse to use the old, rusty firepoles dotted around the building. But it needed to be dramatic. She’d been waiting for a moment worthy of the act. This would do, she thought. She darted towards the nearest one, just a few feet away from the staircase (which would take her downstairs in mostly the same amount of time), and tried not to grin like a five-year-old as she jumped onto it and let gravity do the rest. Three seconds of rushing air later, her feet hit the cobbled floor of the garage.

 

She blew stray strands of hair out of her face. “That was awesome.”

 

Benji came sliding down the pole after her, looking far too busy to enjoy the ride. He rushed towards the lockers standing against the wall of the building and threw them open, revealing a rack of three dirty-beige jumpsuits, identical except for the name patch sewn over the heart, which displayed the last name of the intender wearer.

 

“Okay then,” said Beca, reaching forward for the one labelled ‘MITCHELL’ and casting an unimpressed glance over it. “Going out dressed like a high-school janitor. This will show my Dad that I don’t need a college degree to make something of myself.”

 

Benji had already stepped into the pant-legs, pulled the rest up to fit his arms in, and was zipping up the front. “Anything flashier would have been pointless. The easier these are to clean, the better. I have a feeling they’re going to come in contact with some very unique substances.”

 

“Don’t jinx us, dude!”

 

Beca zipped her own suit up and then hurried out of the front doors with Benji by her side, where they expected Jesse to be waiting for them, but they saw only the passing traffic. Beca sighed.

 

“How long do we give him before we call a cab?”

 

If Benji had started to answer, the sound of it was drowned out by a blaring siren. Something insanely bright came flying around the corner, temporarily blinding them. When their eyes adjusted, Jesse’s car was sitting there. Except it looked a little bit different than the last time Beca had seen it. No longer covered in peeling and patchy black paint, the whole thing was now sparkling white, except for the bright red ‘no-ghosts’ logo adorning the driver and passenger side doors. A roof rack had been installed, containing a plethora of Jesse and Benji’s highly prototypical inventions, and there were ambulance-style flashing blue lights fixed at either end.

 

The window rolled down, and Jesse stuck his head out.

 

“Get in, losers, we’re going Ghostbusting!”

 

* * *

 

 

The locals she’d spoken to said the appeal would wear off eventually, and that she’d grow to see it as a crowded, traffic-causing, tourist zoo. But Chloe couldn’t help it: she _loved_ Times Square.

 

“Can we go to the Disney Store?” she asked.

 

Aubrey, who was walking next to her and eating a slice of veggie-pizza, rolled her eyes.

 

“You went to the Disney Store yesterday.”

 

“They might have new stuff!”

 

Aubrey shook her head. “Let’s go see a show instead. I’m thinking _Waitress_?”

 

Chloe shrugged. “I hear _Dear Evan Hansen_ is good.”

 

“Here’s a show for you…”

 

The voice did not belong to either of them. It was arrogant, and nasal-y, and a voice they would both instantly wish to never hear again. They turned around to see Bumper strolling towards them.

                                          

“…it’s called _The Bellas Embarrass Themselves And Make The Whole Audience Never Have Kids In Case They Turn Out Like Them._ You can see it at Lincoln Centre in about two weeks, it’s gonna be on right before _Bumper Wins The ICCAs Again._ ”

 

Aubrey glared. “So you’re following us now?”

 

“No, but it was easy to spot you two dimmers amongst the bright lights. Thought I’d say hello, ask how rehearsals were going. Have you worked out how to get through solos without regurgitating yet? Or is that still a work in progress?”

 

Aubrey clenched her fists. “You know what –”

 

But Bumper held up a solitary finger and looked at his phone. “Aw, would love to stay and chat, but I’d rather be literally anywhere else in the entire world. I did however just get an e-vite to John Mayer’s album release party at the super fancy _Sedgewick Hotel_ uptown. I think a night mixing with the music industry crowd will help wash off this interaction. Laters!”

 

He was gone before they could retort, Chloe glared at his retreating form until it disappeared into the crowd of tourists. Then she turned to Aubrey and went into full protection mode.

 

“Do _not_ let him get to you!”

 

Aubrey looked so beyond furious she didn’t know what to do, and so settled for stamping her heel into the pavement.

 

“I hate him, Chloe. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”

 

“He’s a loser.”

 

“A loser that hangs out with John Mayer!”

 

“John Mayer is a loser.”

 

Aubrey rolled her eyes again. “You’re only saying that because you’re a Taylor Swift fan.”

 

Chloe grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the theatre district. “Come on, let’s go see a show and forget all about him – _whoa!”_

They had both been seconds away from stepping off the pavement, but a blaring siren noise appeared out of nowhere. They both jumped back from the curb, just in time to catch a glimpse at a white vehicle with flashing blue lights go screaming past them.

 

Chloe frowned as she watched it fly by. She had the strangest feeling she’d seen that car before.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” said Beca, gripping onto the dashboard as Jesse rounded another busy NYC corner like he was an F1 driver. “So I suppose the obvious question is: why didn’t we start a car restoration business instead.”

 

“Because you gave a big speech about the importance of investigating the paranormal,” Jesse replied without taking his eyes off the road. “Pioneering research, niche market, helping those no one else believes. It was pretty epic.”

 

“Right,” she said. “Just… holy crap, I still can’t believe this is the same car.”

 

“Should we be worried about the siren?” asked Benji from the back seat. “I’m pretty sure you need to be part of the emergency services to operate a siren. You need a license at the very least.”

 

“We are an emergency service,” said Beca. “Practically, anyway.”

 

Benji didn’t look convinced. “I just don’t want your Dad or that little angry Police Officer to yell at us again.”

 

Suddenly, Jesse slammed on the breaks and the car screeched to a halt outside their destination. They each got out and walked to the back of the car, where Jesse opened the rear door and pulled out a rack that had once been used to load dead bodies into the hearse, but now made it easy to transport what Benji had dubbed ‘proton packs’, which were more accurately various bits of clunky tech bolted together and with straps attached so it could be worn on one’s back.

 

Once inside, they understandably received one or two funny looks from the many guests hanging around the spacious lobby. You did not expect to see three twenty-somethings in horrible grey jumpsuits and toting big, black, metal backpacks strolling through the lobbies of fancy New York hotels. Perhaps this is why a tall, thin gentleman in a tuxedo rushed towards them and instantly began ushering them towards the back of the lobby where the elevators were located.

 

“You’re the Ghostbusters, I presume?” he said hurriedly. “I’m the manager, thank you for coming so quickly.”

 

“It’s our pleasure,” said Jesse. “Our receptionist says it’s on the twelfth floor?”

 

The manager took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his sweaty brow. “That’s where it was last seen yes, but it’s been known to roam around the fourteenth as well.”

 

“So it’s happened before?” asked Benji.

 

The manager nodded gravely. “Most of the old staff know to steer clear of those floors at certain times of the night. But it’s been quiet for years, and it was never, ever this bad. I had no choice but to call you. I can’t have this happening tonight.” He nodded back towards the main entrance, where a large, framed poster of John Mayer along with the words ‘ _Album release party – tonight!’_ was standing by the doors. “We have a very famous musical artist here tonight.”

 

Beca glanced at the poster, unimpressed. “And in addition to the famous musical artist, it looks like John Mayer’s gonna be here.”

 

“Ignore her,” said Jesse, in response to the offended frown on the manager’s face. “She’s a Taylor Swift fan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're a John Mayer fan, I'm sorry. The joke just kind of created itself as I was writing and I thought it was funny. I have no strong feelings either way regarding Mr Mayer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry there was a long wait between chapters. I mean, it was because I went to Disney World, so I guess I'm not THAT sorry.

It had been Beca’s idea to split up; for her to take the twelfth floor, Jessie to inspect the fourteenth, and Benji to roam around the others. This was mostly because her cohorts were _way_ too excited, and she hoped that separating them might result in an increase of focus. But also, if they accidentally killed someone in their bumbling giddiness, at least Beca could claim innocence by being on a totally different floor.

 

She hadn’t quite realised this meant she’d be wandering around on her own, looking for an actual ghost. The twelfth floor, with all it’s expensive carpet and lavish decoration, was deserted, all guests having been moved to different rooms when the disturbances began. Every noise startled her, every creak that she didn’t know to be her own doing made her tense up. She did two loops of the floor and came up empty, and to stop herself wondering what she actually planned to do should she stumble upon the thing she was looking for, she stopped at a vending machine near the elevators to buy herself a Pepsi.

 

The small radio attached to her hip crackled, and Jessie’s hushed voice came through. “Mitchell: report.”

 

She grabbed it with the hand not sliding the dollar into the machine. “Swanson: you’re a dork.”

 

She heard him sigh on the other end. “Seriously, do you see any sign of the entity?”

 

“The entity? A little impersonal, don’t you think, Jess? I  mean, we’re going to blast this thing with a highly focused stream of particles until it’s weak enough to be forced into a tiny little trap we’re not even sure works yet. The least we could do is respect it enough to find out its name.”

 

She could practically hear Jesse rolling his eyes over the radio.

 

“If you’re not going to take this seriously then – wait. I think I heard something.”

 

Beca frowned. “But they cleared the fourteenth floor just like this one.”.

 

“I know,” said Jesse. He paused for way too long, then added “I’m just gonna check something real quick.”

 

“Jesse,” she said sternly, “don’t go being a hero.”

 

“Relax,” he told her; quieter now, and slower, as though he was creeping closer to something he didn’t want to hear him. “I’m just… gonna have a look… around this… corner.”

 

There was a beat of silence, and then a flurry of sounds all at once. She heard Jesse yelling, and some sort of electrical noise accompanied by what sounded like a roar of fire.

 

“Jesse!” Beca yelled, abandoning her Pepsi and rushing for the nearest stairwell, intent on flying up to his floor.

 

But then, after some additional loud crashing noises, came his breathless voice over the radio.

 

“Holy. Shit.”

 

“What?” Beca asked. “What happened?”

 

“I saw it. Beca I actually saw it!” said Jesse, voice all high-pitched and shaking with adrenaline. But Beca could tell he was grinning. “It’s… it’s… I can’t even describe it. It’s not like Gertrude, it didn’t look human. It was stuffing it’s face with a tray of room service, and I blasted it. Beca, the equipment works! The proton stream shredded the tray and most of the wall, but the damn thing ducked at the last second and flew right through the floor. Just straight up phased through it, like... well, like a ghost.”

 

“Through the floor?” Beca repeated.

 

“Yeah, like an X-Man or something!”

 

“No, Jesse… through the floor?”

 

“Yes through the floor, so what?”

 

“So,” she said, and then closed her eyes and prayed for once in her life that she wasn’t always right. “If it flew _down_ , and you’re on the floor above me, then…”

 

She turned around, back towards the vending machine and long stretch of lavishly decorated hallway. Something at the end of the hall stared back.

 

“Oh,” came Jesse’s voice over the radio. “Well, listen, stay right there, I’m on my way.”

 

“Too late,” she said. “It’s here, Jess.”

 

Jesse had been right. It wasn’t anything like Gertrude or something you could call human. At the end of the hall, holding her gaze, was a floating, glowing, neon-green blob. It was like a huge, rolled up ball of snot, with a face sunk into it and two tiny little arms sticking out of either side. It was also dripping. There was a puddle of green gloop gathering steadily on the floor beneath where it hovered.

 

“Okay,” said Jesse. “Don’t panic. I know it’s really hideously disgusting but – ”

 

The ghost chose that moment to let out a very annoyed grunt.

 

“I’m pretty sure it can hear you,” she said.

 

“Whatever. Just keep calm. You’re the one wearing the unlicensed nuclear accelerator on your back. _It_ should be afraid of _you_.”

 

They both heard that – Beca and the ghost. It even seemed to narrow it’s eyes at Beca, and she did the same. It moved forward, just ever so slightly, drifting no more than an inch in her direction as if to prove that it could. There was a metal wand hooked on to the side of her proton pack, which when detached would fire the proton stream. Beca flexed the fingers on the hand closest to it.

 

A minute went by, maybe two. Then the ghost took it’s shot.

 

It moved quickly, flying towards her and covering half the distance between them in seconds. But Beca was quicker. She reached up and unclipped the proton thrower, grabbing it with both hands and aiming it right at the ugly little spud.

 

The ghost stopped instantly. Seeing it hover there, helplessly, Beca grinned. And then she actually looked down at the equipment she was holding, seeing only a bunch of unlabelled switches and buttons.

 

“Wait,” she wondered aloud, “how does this thing work again?”

 

The ghost smiled, and then flew right at her. Beca had just enough time to screan in terror before everything went a blurry shade of green.

 

After a few seconds of disoriented silence, there were footsteps in the distance, and someone was shaking her.

 

“Beca!” Jesse was yelling. “Beca, are you alright?!”

 

She could smell it before she could feel it. Some kind of thick, foul aroma overpowering all of her senses. She blinked her eyes open and saw that she was on the floor, soaked head to toe in the goo of the little green ghost.

 

“He slimed me,” she said, having to spit some of it out of her mouth afterwards. “Ran right through me and then down through the floor again.”

 

“You _bitch_!” was not the reply she was expecting. But she looked up at Jesse to see him looking so jealous he was practically green himself.

 

“Are you kidding me right now?”

 

“Actual physical contact!” Jesse gushed. “Why is it never me?”

 

“Jesse, I feel like I’ve been dunked in a Jacuzzi full of old sewage water!”

 

Both of their radios crackled, and Benji’s voice filled the hallway.

 

“Guys, you there?”

 

Jesse snatched the radio off his belt. “Benji - Beca got slimed! She’s literally dripping with ectoplasm.”

 

“It’s true, Benji” she groaned, loud enough to be heard. “It’s pretty gross and I’m pretty sure it will take forever to wash out of my hair.”

 

“That’s awesome,” said Benji. “Make sure you scoop some up for me to examine later. But listen: you guys need to get down here right away, I think I’ve got it cornered in the main ballroom.”

 

* * *

 

The hotel lobby was busier now. It had filled up with giddy fangirls whilst Beca was upstairs being puked on. The hotel manager also seemed to have grown more and more agitated as the minutes ticked by. Standing between Beca and the door to the bulding’s grand function room, there was visible perspiration on his brow.

 

“You don’t understand - he’s here! John Mayer is in the building. He’s warming up with his vocal coach and then his album release party is due to begin in this room in twenty minutes!”

 

Beca gave him a half-hearted frown and reached out to pat him on his shoulder (the residual ghost goo on her hand making a gross _squelch_ ing noise).

 

“Oky, here’s your choices,” she said, moving some of the matted, gunge-soaked strands of hair out of her face. “Unless John Mayer wants to do an unscheduled duet with a ghost, we’re gonna have to lock these doors behind us until our job is done. But between you and me, I don’t think that thing knows the words to _Don’t Go Breaking My Heart_.”

 

The hotel manager glanced worriedly at the still growing crowd filling up the lobby, and sighed.

 

“Make it quick,” he pleaded.

 

She closed the old, heavy wooden doors behind her and turned to the ballroom. There was a dozen or so fancily-dressed tables covering the floor, a stage at the far end, and a buffett running along the left wall. Jesse was strolling around the perimeter, the PKE metre out in front of him. Benji was closer to her, next to a cardboard cut-out of John Mayer standing by the door

 

“We lost it,” he announced plainly.

 

“How do you lose a ghost that literally glows in the dark?”

 

Benji shrugged. “It was sniffing at the buffet, we turned around for one second and it was gone.”

 

“Uh, guys?” came Jesse’s voice.

 

She and Benji saw him now in the middle of the hall, with both his gaze and the PKE metre pointed up towards the ceiling.

 

The little green ghost was lazily circling the grand chandelier that hung from the ceiling, poking and prodding at it in fascination.

 

“Ohhh, Mr Ghost,” said Beca furiously. “Of all the ballrooms in all the hotels...”

 

She and Benji joined Jesse in the centre of the room, forming a circle below the chandelier.

 

“Beca, you remember which switch it is?” Jesse whispered.

 

Beca rested her finger on the trigger, which had been kindly pointed out to her. “Yeah. On 3?”

 

Jesse nodded. Benji gulped. But all three of them held out their proton throwers and aimed them at the still oblivious green ghost on the ceiling.

 

“One… two… _three!”_

 

Beca flipped her switch and felt an immediate kickback that nearly knocked her off balance. A steady, unbroken beam of pure energy shot out from her thrower. Her aim was way off, tearing into the ceiling tiles a good few inches away from the ghost. Benji’s was on point, hitting the ghost right in the back and making it howl in pain before darting back down to their level, by the stage. Jesse’s fire was a different story. It hit and instantly destroyed the chain which dangled the chandelier from the ceiling.

 

“Look out!” Beca screamed, as the whole chandelier plummeted to the ground, landing with the most expensive sounding crash she’d ever heard.

 

“Aww, man” said Jesse mournfully, staring at the shambles of the once beautiful piece of decoration. “I hope that wasn’t vintage or anything.”

 

“Oh, no,” Beca deadpanned. “I’d say early 80s at worst. I’m sure they won’t be mad.”

 

“Well at least I scorched him a little bit,” said Benji, looking towards the stage, where the ghost could be seen trying to find cover.

 

“Not enough, though,” said Beca. “Maybe If we all combine our fire to make one big proton stream it’ll knock him right out?”

 

Benji chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha. Very funny.”

 

She looked to Jesse. He seemed just as lost.

 

“Wait,” said Benji, seeing their expressions. “You’re serious? Oh my god, no! What did I tell you about crossing the streams?”

 

Beca pondered this for a second. “Literally nothing,” she replied.

 

“…Oh,” said Benji with a hint of guilt. “Wow, okay, that one’s on me. So, hey, important safety tip: never cross the streams. It’s the actual most dangerous thing we could with this equipment.”

 

Presumably realising what he meant, Jesse looked down at his own proton thrower like he was suddenly terrified of it. “Total protonic reversal! It’d be like firing on ourselves!”

 

Beca meanwhile, glared furiously at both of them. “And neither of you two geniuses thought to mention this?”

 

Jesse shrugged, ever the mediator. “It’s been mentioned now. Everybody shut up and spread out. John Mayer’s gonna be here in like five minutes.”

 

The slime ball had found its way back to the buffet table, enticed by the aromas coming from the buffalo wings. Each of them picked a spot to block possible escape routes, and readied their proton throwers again.

 

“Okay, let’s try this in turns,” said Jesse, and he fired a short burst of energy that skimmed the ghost’s head. It ducked out the way and tried to run the length of the table, towards the door. “Beca: now!”

 

At the far end of the table, Beca braced her legs for the kickback and let loose. She caught the ghost right in the face and was able to get a good few seconds of continuous fire in before it flew downwards, phasing right through the table and appearing beneath it. Trying to use the tablecloth as cover, it headed back in the other direction. Benji was closest.

 

“Throw it, Benji!” Jesse yelled.

 

Benji looked startled and caught off guard. He fumbled with his thrower and the proton stream that came out was too much for him to handle. The ghost got back to the stage unharmed, but Benji’s stream ripped through the buffet table, setting a fire that spread frighteningly fast. As most of the food began to burn, Benji only continued to shoot wildly.

 

“Okay!” Beca yelled again. “Enough, the crab cakes are innocent!”

 

“I can’t turn it off,” Benji yelled back. “The switch is stuck! Just gimmie a sec!”

 

He poked at his thrower in a panicked manner, Jesse and Beca helpless to do anything but watch as an unending stream of proton energy continued to pour outwards and burn anything it hit to cinders. Finally, he pressed with the whole power of his thumb on a particular trigger, and the proton stream went out. But not before it hit the lifesize cut out of John Mayer that was too near the buffet table.

 

“Uh-oh,” said Benji, staring at the flaming cut-out. Mayer’s smiling face engulfed in flames made for a disturbing image.

 

“You know,” said Beca, “they’ll assume that the chandelier and the buffet table were accidents. But that?” – the cut out fell forward to the floor, and continued to burn – “That’s going to look intentional.”

 

“No use crying over it,” said Jesse, quickly drawing attention back to the stage. “Let’s finish this.”

 

Again, they spaced out in front of the stage so they had all angles covered. In the centre, Jesse took out the trap: a small shoe-box sized contraption with a large cable extending out the back of it, leading to an attached foot pedal.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Beca got a good shot in there, I think it’s hurt. So you guys hit him with a confinement stream from both sides, and then I’ll slide the trap in.”

 

The ghost snarled at them as it realised it was surrounded. Beca snarled back.

 

“Maybe now you’ll never slime the chick with the positron collider!”

 

She and Benji let loose, and both of their proton streams wrapped around the ghost. It tried to fly upwards, but she and Benji only had to drag their thrower in the opposite direction and the ghost was dragged with it. Seeing them hold it steady in mid air, Jesse placed the trap on the floor and wheeled it forwards until it was underneath the ghost.

 

“Okay, the trap is ready. You guys got him?”

 

Beca and Benji glanced at one another, both gripping onto their proton thrower with all of their might.

 

“I think so?” said Benji.

 

“Kinda?” Beca added.

 

Jesse sighed. “Is that a yes or a no?”

 

“It’s a yes,” Beca moodily replied, “so long as you do what you’re gonna do in the next thirty seconds!”

 

Jesse nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna open the trap. Once it’s open, don’t look directly at it, ok? I’m opening it now.”

 

He stamped on the foot-pedal. Two tiny doors on the surface of the trap folded open and a light so bright it hurt burst outwards. It looked weird. Less like a glow and more like a physical, tangible cloud swirling up to encircle the ghost. And Beca knew all this, because she was looking right at the trap.

 

“Beca!” Jesse shouted, watching her.

 

“I looked at it too,” said Benji before she could even answer. “I’m Obsessive Compulsive, I can’t help it.”

 

“Well, stop!”

 

“Jesse just shut up and trap the damn thing!” Beca yelled.

 

Jesse sighed again and stamped a second time on the trap pedal. The light began to swirl around the ghost with the intensity of tornado winds. Beca and Benji turned off their proton streams and watched as the ghost thrashed and struggled, but was ultimately pulled down towards the trap, where it dissolved into it as the little doors snapped shut.

 

Nobody moved. A tiny red lightbulb on the trap blinked innocuously. Beca didn’t know if that was good or bad. Gradually, all three of them approached the trap, and Jesse bravely knelt down next to it.

 

“We did it,” he said in quiet awe. “It’s in there. We have an actual ghost in a trap.”

 

Benji looked to be holding back tears. “I wish I could think of something to say, deserving of this momentous scientific breakthrough.”

 

“Me too,” said Jesse. “Beca? You got anything?”

 

Beca shrugged, and glanced over to the John Mayer cut out by the buffet table, which was still face down and being licked by flames.

 

“I really wanna make a _Slow Dancing In A Burning Room_ joke, but I just can’t quite find the wording…”

 

Jesse nodded with regret. “Well, we’ll all agree to a story when it comes time to write our memoirs.”

 

* * *

 

The hotel manager was seconds away from a panic attack. He kept looking from the locked ballroom doors behind him to the other end of the packed-to-capacity lobby where any second now John Mayer would appear, wanting to take the stage. How would he ever explain the situation? Who would ever believe him?

 

Before the manager could faint, heavy ballroom doors were kicked open, and the young lady he’d hired appeared before him, holding aloft a small metal box giving off thick clouds of smoke and occasional sparks of electricity.

 

“Who ordered undisputable proof of the paranormal?” she yelled. “I got undisputable proof of the paranormal here for pick up?”

 

The crowd of music fans crammed into the lobby took cautious steps back and began to murmur curiously as Beca, Jesse and Benji emerged from the room. The manager stared at the little box in disbelief.

 

“You have it? Inside there is… the ‘disturbance’?”

 

“Disturbance, doesn’t really do it justice,” said Jesse. “It’s not like we’re talking about a bed bug infestation, here.”

 

“I mean, you may have that also,” Benji noted. “We didn’t really check.”

 

Jesse carefully took the trap from Beca and continued, “Your fine establishment was playing host to what we in the industry refer to as a focused, non-terminal, repeating phantasm, or a Class 5 free-roaming vapour as its known on the streets.”

 

Beca, coughing as a puff of smoke vented from the trap and caught her right in the face, turned to the manager. “Ahem, excuse me. So it’s time for the awkward matter of payment. As you can probably guess, storing a ‘beast’ of this nature is very technical, so our base price for that is four thousand dollars. However, you’ll be happy to know that we’re only going to charge an extra one thousand for the actual entrapment, with you being a first time customer and all.”

 

Disbelief vanished from the manager’s face. A scandalised look replaced it. “Five thousand dollars?! You take two hours to trample your way around my hotel before you manage to catch this thing, and then you dare ask me for five thousand dollars?”

 

She quickly placed a calming hand on the manager’s shoulder. “Oh, sir, we of course have a second option.”

 

“I should think so!”

 

Beca shrugged. “If that price isn’t cool with you, we’ll just release the haunting back into your hotel and be on our way. Jesse, if you’d be so kind?”

 

Jesse was already striding back towards the ballroom when the manager leapt forwards and clutched at the arm holding the trap.

 

“ _No!”_ he said, and through gritted teeth agreed, “Okay, five thousand it is. Just get it out of here.”

 

“You’ve made the right call,” said Benji, stepping forward to hand the manager an invoice. “Will you be paying with cash or card?”

 

The seething manager took Benji over to the front desk to sort out the financials, leaving Beca and Jesse looking out at a crowd full of cameras. Everyone stuffed into the lobby had their phones out and had been filming the encounter, and by now members of the media here for the album party had shoved their way to the front. A tall woman in business attire held a microphone out to her.

 

“Excuse me,” she asked. “Are you claiming to have actually captured a ghost?”

 

“Uhhh… yes?” Her camera-shy response earned looks of scepticism from the crowd. So she pulled Jesse forward. “No, seriously: look.”

 

The trap he held out in front of them earned a chorus of ‘ooh’s. A short, obnoxious-looking dude dressed in purple pushed to the front of the crowd.

 

“They’re fakes!” he yelled. “They’re trying to steal John Mayer’s spotlight!”

 

Beca didn’t care for that, so much so that any crowd fright she felt evaporated. She stepped towards the short guy.

 

“We are a highly trained team of professionals,” she sneered. “With an army of attorneys on staff ready to file slander lawsuits if you keep shouting your mouth off like that.”

 

The dude’s eyes widened and he hastily retreated. Beca turned to the room at large.

 

“Look, for way too long now we’ve all been lying to ourselves. Pretending we don’t hear that shuffling in the basement, pretending we never saw that shadow in the attic. Nobody has to do that anymore. We’re the Ghostbusters, and we’re ready to believe you.”

 

Jesse cleared his throat and spoke up. “We’re not screwing around. We’re scientists. We know how to remove these things from your home or place of business. You don’t have to put up with it and you don’t have to be afraid. Just call us. No job is too big.”

 

Beca threw an arm around his shoulder. “No _fee_ is too big either. Anyway, we should get out of here, get our little supernatural friend to his new home.”

 

They began wading their way through the crowd, who snapped pictures and shouted additional questions (until the trap got too close to their faces, after which they jumped away in fright). The finally reached the front entrance just as a super tall, super handsome, super well dressed gentleman appeared in front of them holding a guitar.

 

“Oh,” said Beca, looking up at John Mayer. “Dude. I don’t think you’re gonna be able to perform tonight. We kinda wrecked your room, sorry.”

 

“No worries,” he replied coolly. “Did you guys really catch a ghost?”

 

Jesse proudly held up the trap again. “Yep!”

 

John Mayer looked at it in amazement. “That’s so cool. Can I get a selfie for Instagram?’

 

Beca hesitated, but eventually shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” she said, allowing him to get in close to her and Jesse. She pulled a goofy face and stuck out her tongue, and found herself hoping her Dad followed John Mayer on Instagram.

 

* * *

 

The line exiting the Broadway theatre was slow and boring, so Chloe got out her phone while she and Aubrey moved forward inch by inch. She frowned at her screen. “I have a missed call from Beca.”

 

She had pressed the button for her voicemail – holding it up to her ear to hear Beca’s strangely nervous, stuttering voice say _“Hey Chloe, it’s Beca. Beca Mitchell. From the Ghostbusters? Just calling to give you an update…”_ – when she saw Aubrey giving her a withering look.

 

“You’re still employing those guys? Chloe, your apartment is fine, you’ve stayed there every night this week.”

 

“I know,” Chloe mumbled, as the voicemail ended and she put away her phone.

 

“So forget about it!” They were outside now and walking down the street, and when Chloe didn’t reply for a second, it only made Aubrey groan loudly. “Oh, god. Please tell me you’re not into her.”

 

Chloe could only roll her eyes. “Don’t start. I just want to get to the bottom of what happened, so that I can actually move past it.”

 

Aubrey did not look convinced, and as they reached the end of the block and found themselves back in the glow of Time’s Square’s many lights and giant screens, she was shaking her head in disdain.

 

“Just… anyone but her, okay?”

 

“She’s not that bad,” Chloe replied.

 

“She’s _weird!_ She’s cocky, she’s rude, she’s way too forward, she’s – “

 

“She’s on that huge TV screen,” said Chloe suddenly.

 

“ – what?”

 

Chloe had looked away as Aubrey ranted, and her eyes had fallen upon on the biggest of all the big screens hanging on the buildings that made up Times Square. And there, larger than life (and covered in some weird slimy substance) was Beca Mitchell, chatting with John Mayer. It was evidently a live stream of one of the news networks, because there was an anchor-lady talking in a smaller box at the side of screen, and a headline running along the bottom that read _GHOST-BUSTERS? INCIDENT AT SEDGEWICK HOTEL_

She turned to Aubrey, seeing her gaping at the screen just as she had herself.

 

“What the hell?” she asked.

 

But Chloe, her memory stirring, replied, “Sedgewick – isn’t that the hotel that Bumper said he was going to?”

 

“Oh my god,” Aubrey gasped and threw her finger towards the screen.

 

Chloe looked back, just in time to see a figure in the crowd behind Beca and John Mayer. It was unmistakably the short, purple Treble jacket-wearing form of Bumper. He was glaring, evidently bothered by the chummy conversation Beca was having with John Mayer. Something seemed to snap in him, and he strode forward with unknown intent. Before he could reach them, though, he slipped in something (the goo Beca was drenched in?) and fell ass-first to the floor. John Mayer briefly glanced his way, chuckled, and then turned back to accept the business card that Beca was holding out for him.

 

Chloe turned back to Aubrey. Her face was emotionless, and Chloe wondered if her brain could even process what she’d just seen. Bumper, humiliated, on a giant screen in the middle of Times Square - surely that was better than Christmas to Aubrey Posen?

 

“What were you saying about Beca?” she asked with a smirk.

 

Aubrey looked at her, tight lipped and conflicted.

 

“She’s still weird,” she mumbled.


	8. Chapter 8

If Aubrey was sick of Beca initially, what followed must have been her own personal hell.

 

The John Mayer/Sedgewick Hotel incident swept the nation. The very next morning saw reporters camping outside the firehouse just to get an interview, but the truth was that Beca and company had become so insanely in-demand practically overnight, they didn’t have time to talk. Everyone was calling. People who were desperate for help, people who just wanted advice, people who didn’t even believe in ghosts.

 

Street vendors sold Ghostbusters t-shirts on every corner. Talk radio became non-stop discussions about whether the group were con artists or needed federal regulation. One day, Jesse was due to be a guest on Seth Meyers and traffic uptown turned so bad it took Chloe and Aubrey ninety minutes to get to a Bellas rehearsal barely three blocks away.

 

And the weirdest thing was that Chloe couldn’t help but grin. Every time she heard people talking about it on the subway, every time it trended on twitter, every time she saw a paper with a front page candid shot of Beca, Jesse and Benji on one of their latest escapades. It was so amusing to her that the ragtag band of college drop outs, who had listened to her and promised to help when she thought her mind was slipping away, were now the talk of the town.

 

Which made it even more touching that they hadn’t forgotten her.

 

One night she was sitting on the floor in her parents’ apartment, eating the takeout she’d bought herself after a particularly gruelling practice, when her cellphone buzzed. On the other line, in between the sound of a car engine starting up and a non-stop ringing in the background, she heard Benji’s excited voice.

 

“Chloe! Do you know anything about ancient Sumerian deities? Because – hey!”

 

“Gimmie that!” came Beca’s voice as she wrestled the phone away. “I said I was going to call her! Get in the car, Jessie’s waiting for you. And Kimmy-Jin, please, the phone?” Chloe waited, bemused, as the engine drove off into the distance and the phone stopped ringing, and Beca sighed wearily. “Hi. It’s Beca.”

 

“Hey,” she said, feeling strangely nervous. This girl had practically become a celebrity since they’d last met, and she wondered if that would change what little dynamic they had. “How’s it going over there?”

 

Beca sighed again. “It’s the worst. I haven’t seen my bed in at least a week and half, and it’s not like I get to sleep in this damn firehouse because the phone rings every two minutes, day or night. I hate it. I wish we still had no customers.”

 

Chloe smiled. That sounded like the same old Beca to her.

 

“Listen, I can’t talk long,” Beca continued. “They’re saying there’s a bear loose on the Lower East Side, and we’re not sure if it’s a real bear or a ghost bear, because somebody said it was see-through but somebody else said that was just a weird reflection from the streetlight – it’s a whole thing. But anyway, I just wanted to let you know: we found it.”

 

“…found what?”

 

“Zuul,” said Beca, and Chloe’s eyes swiftly fell upon the kitchen door. She regretted turning off all the lights to eat by the glow of the TV. “It was written in a really old book in the library’s historical section, they made Benji use special gloves before he could even touch it.”

 

Chloe fought to find her voice. “So, um, what did you find out?”

 

“Honestly, it’s super weird and hard to explain, and I think it would be better to tell you in person, but that’s difficult because as we’ve already discussed, things are – ” She heard Beca pull the phone away and furiously yell (presumably at Kimmy-Jin) “ _Tell them that I already said to shoot it with a tranquilizer and see if it passes right through or not!”_ Then she paused, and took a deep breath. “ – things are super busy right now. But I’m gonna get to you as soon as I can, okay?”

 

“Okay,” said Chloe. “If you’re sure. But when you say hard to explain, what exactly – ?”

 

“The dart went right through?” she heard Beca say. “Aw, crap. It’s a ghost bear. Okay, tell them I’m on my way. Chloe? I gotta run, I’m really sorry. But we’ll talk soon, okay?”

 

The line went dead before Chloe could reply.

 

She sat there for a moment, processing. Then she turned on a light, put her back to the kitchen door as she finished her meal, and went quickly to bed.

 

* * *

 

Days passed. On a particularly hot weekday afternoon, Beca had sat down in her office to fill in some paperwork about the ghost they’d caught telling some pretty off-colour jokes in a comedy club a few nights earlier, and at some point she’d dozed off.

 

She dreamt about sleeping. About having no job and all the free time she could ever want, and using that free time to nap. Her dream-bed was so comfy, she thought that it felt like a bed of marshmallows, and then all of a sudden it was. Mr Stay Puft was there, pulling chunks of marshmallow off of his tummy and using it to make Beca’s bed comfier. She told him she loved him and then they both held hands and bounced up and down on the marshmallow bed together.

 

Then some asshole cleared his throat in front of her, and she snapped quickly awake.

 

It took her a few moments to recognise his scowl, but then she recognised him as the purple-jacket wearing douchebag who’d gotten all in her face at the Sedgewick Hotel.

 

“You’re not here to ask about that army of attorneys are you?” she asked sleepily. “Because that was a total lie.”

 

“No,” said the guy, smiling as he strode arrogantly around her office. “I just thought that we should talk. We never actually got the chance to introduce ourselves. I’m Bumper.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Were your parents told they were expecting a rabbit, or…?”

 

Bumper’s cocky smirk twitched, but didn’t fall. “You know, you guys are everywhere these days. Seems like all people are talking about is the Ghostbusters. And then they see me, and they recognise me as that goofy guy who fell on his butt when the Ghostbusters met John Mayer, and then _that’s_ all they wanna talk about.”

 

“Well, I’m happy to have given you a taste of fame,” said Beca, trying to look past Bumper for Kimmy-Jin, so she could ask her to remove the strange monologuing midget in front of her.

 

“Oh, I was already making a pretty decent name for myself. I’m a collegiate A Capella champion, and a hot prospect amongst music industry peeps.”

 

Beca shook her head slightly. “I understood, like, a third of the words in that sentence. What the hell is collegiate Acapulco?”

 

Bumper threw his hands down on her desk. “The _point_ is that you stole all that from me! Made me into a fool. And worst of all, you robbed me of the chance to give John Mayer my demo CD featuring a duet of me and him that I digitally edited together.”

 

Beca had seen some pretty scary things these last few weeks, but Bumper’s blink-less gaze was on another level of creepiness. “Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is. You’re talking about weird college competitions and an obsession with John Mayer. I guess sympathise to an extent on the latter, I’m really into Taylor Swift.”

 

Bumper scoffed. “Taylor Swift is a diva who can’t write a song that isn’t about one of the guys that were smart enough to dump her.”

 

Now it was Beca’s turn to glare without blinking. “And with that comment you just lost the right to breath in my general area, so maybe it’s best that you were leaving.”

 

Bumper smiled and stood up straight. “Actually, I thought I’d take a look around. You guys just sort of popped up overnight, and it’s got me wondering if all the tech in this place is up to code. We wouldn’t want to have the city shut you down just as you get started, would we? That would be pretty embarrassing.”

 

Beca pushed her chair back and stood up too. “I may have been lying about an army of attorneys, but we’re making enough money lately that I could get one pretty quick. So I’m gonna ask you one more time to get the hell out of here before I need to find somebody to defend me on assault charges.”

 

A tense, zero-blink, stare off took place. But then Bumper shrugged, and he started backing away.

 

“Fine. Have it your way. I guess I’ll see you around.”

 

She did her best to keep an intimidating expression on her face until Bumper had swaggered out of the firehouse, after which she jumped out of her office to admonish her assistant.

 

“Kimmy-Jin, you can’t just let random nutjobs walk in here, alright?” she said to the younger girl, only then noticing that there was a second person sitting across the desk from her. “For example, who’s this?”

 

The blonde girl held up a hand to give Beca a weak wave. “I’m Amy,” she said, in a thick Australian accent. “I’m here about the job.”

 

Kimmy-Jin turned her ever-sardonic eyes to Beca. “I was just asking if she believed in Ouija boards, the Roswell cover up, and the theory of Atlantis, which are all questions Jesse requested I ask. What was it you were saying about nutjobs?”

 

Beca dropped her bossy stance. “Fair point.”

 

Amy cleared her throat. “For the record, I was just about to answer that I am currently having work-related visa issues, and that as long as I can list this company as my employer with the Department of Immigration and use it to remain in the US long-term… I’ll believe anything you say.”

 

Beca blinked. “Well as reassuring as that is to hear…” she began, but trailed off as they all became aware of Jesse’s beloved car appearing through the open doorway and pulling into the firehouse lobby. The ‘Ecto-1’ emblazed licence-plate practically came right up to Kimmy-Jin’s desk, and Jesse and Benji got out, each carrying two smoking ghost traps. Jesse had days-old slime-stains on the left side of his jumpsuit that he’d been too busy clean, and Benji’s eyes kept fluttering closed and then snapping back open like a 5 year old up past his bedtime.

 

“We think we just saw another ghost bear trashing up a bodega,” announced Jesse.

 

Beca turned back to Amy. “Congratulations, you’re hired. Jesse, train her up. I got somewhere to be.”

 

She grabbed her jacket and headed for the doors, staying long enough to hear Amy punch the air and whisper “Crushed it!”

 

* * *

 

It was rehearsal day at Lincoln Center. One by one, the Bellas filed on stage and began stretching out or picking a spot to put their water bottle, but Chloe hung back, and watched Aubrey. This was the first time since puke-gate that they’d been back here. She found herself recalling last year’s rehearsals, when the other, more jaded Bellas had walked through the doors like it was nothing, leaving her and Aubrey to spend all day sharing secret, dangerously excited glances. They had been so blown away to walk these halls, to step onto this stage. This building was holy ground to people like them. The Mecca of A Capella.

 

And now she watched Aubrey walk slowly, emotionless, towards centre stage and peer down at the front row. It had been mopped up almost a whole year ago, but Chloe guessed that no matter how hard the cleaning staff scrubbed, Aubrey would never stop seeing those chairs covered in her own vomit. Like Lady Macbeth, only with barf.

 

But then something snapped in the girl, and all of a sudden Captain Aubrey Posen was back.

 

“Okay, Bellas. Positions please.”

 

They ran through the performance as many times as possible. They did it perfectly; at this point, every choreographed step was burned into their brains. And yet, when their time was up and they were walking off stage, Aubrey turned to the group and said, “Let’s meet back at Chloe’s, where I want each of you to have a list of ten ways we can improve.”

 

The other girls sent her pleading looks, but Chloe could only shrug in response. Finals were less than a week away; Aubrey was past the point of being talked down or reasoned with.

 

She hopped off stage, gathered up her stuff, and headed towards the auditorium door. Someone got there before her and held it open.

 

“Ladies first,” he said.

 

She recognised him quickly as a member of the A Capella group that had rehearsed before the Bellas. She had noticed him as they passed each other on the way to the stage, and she was totally noticing him right now, all tall and handsome and smiling at her.

 

“Thanks,” she said in a sudden, shy murmur.

 

“You’re a Bella, right?” he asked, following her through the door and walking down the hall with her. “I heard you guys perform. You sounded great.”

 

“Thanks,” said Chloe. “You did too. Your group, I mean. Which isn’t to say – I mean, you personally sounded great too, but…” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, watching Chloe close her eyes for a second before trying again. “Thanks. You guys did too.”

 

He laughed and held out his hand for her to shake. “Tom.”

 

She took it gladly. “Chloe.”

 

“So,” said Tom, running a hand through his perfect hair as they reached the exit, which he again graciously held open for her. “What are you up to today? I know a great coffee place, if you’re interested?”

 

Chloe had been pulling a scarf around herself when he asked, and in shock she tugged on it a little too tight and nearly gagged. She quickly recovered and sent him an apologetic smile. “We actually have a Bellas meeting that I can’t miss.”

 

Tom didn’t flinch, merely shrugging and flashing her another smile. “Well, some other time maybe. Can I at least walk you to a cab?”

 

Chloe couldn’t think of a reason to say no, or decide if she even wanted to. So she said “Sure” and together they started walking across the beautiful courtyard outside of Lincoln Center and towards the nearby hustle and bustle of the street.

 

“I hope our Captains don’t mind us fraternizing,” Tom quipped as they walked. “You know, what with us about to go head to head in deadly A Capella warfare.”

 

Chloe laughed, a reply ready on her tongue. But then she looked up, towards the huge fountains in the centre of the courtyard, and trailed off.

 

Beca was strolling around the fountain. Her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, she had thrown a creased red jacket over her Ghostbusters uniform, and was trying to imitate some kind of weird hopping manoeuvre that a kid on the other side of the fountain was doing. A smile crept across Chloe’s face.

 

“Could you give me, like, five seconds? I just have to talk to somebody real quick.”

 

“Oh,” said Tom, face falling in confusion. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

 

But Chloe hadn’t really even waited to hear his response.

 

“Beca,” she said when she reached the fountain. “This is a surprise.”

 

“You’re surprised?” said Beca. “What about me? Why didn’t you tell me you were an Acapulco singer?”

 

“A Capella,” Chloe corrected.

 

“Right! That’s, like, a real thing, it turns out!”

 

Chloe glanced back at Lincoln Center. “Well everybody here for the International Championships certainly thinks so.”

 

“Oh I’m not making fun of you!” said Beca quickly. “I caught some at the end there, I thought it was great. You in particular were wonderful. You stood out way above the rest.”

 

“Wow,” Chloe deadpanned. “You really think so? That‘s so weird, considering the parts I was singing were literally supposed to be blending into the rest of the song seamlessly.”

 

If Beca was embarrassed at being caught out, it didn’t show. Rather, she looked tickled. She turned away from Chloe dramatically, her messy ponytail swaying behind her.

 

“I don’t have to take this kind of abuse from you, you know. I got hundreds of people waiting to abuse me.”

 

“Oh, so now you’re on magazine covers and you’re a big shot?” said Chloe with a grin. “You forget, I saw your humble beginnings. My Dad’s emergency credit card kept you guys in business for like a week.”

 

Beca bowed. “And we are eternally grateful. Which is why your case is still our top priority.”

 

Chloe’s smile faltered slightly. “So, you found the name Zuul, huh?”

 

Beca nodded, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a piece of paper that had been folded up several hundred times. “Heads up, though: this gets a little weird.”

 

“There was a devil dog in my fridge, Beca. It’s already weird.”

 

Beca shrugged and straightened out the paper, Chloe came to her side to see what looked like a photocopied page from a very old book.

 

“So,” said Beca, reading aloud, “ _‘Zuul regularly appears in Sumerian-era apocalypse myths, where he is described as a demigod and an omen, whose presence signals an imminent cataclysm._ ’”

 

Chloe squinted and read from a passage that had jumped out at her. “ _‘Zuul was often depicted as an underling of Gozer.’_ Gozer - why do I know that name?”

 

“Yeah, Benji didn’t need to search through any books for that one. Apparently Gozer is still pretty well known for being the big bad of all the old world’s evil gods.”

 

“That doesn’t explain what’s he doing in my kitchen?”

 

“Well it’s a really a nice apartment, so my current theory is that he’s hoping for some sort of squatters-rights type situation.”

 

Chloe gave her a look. “This isn’t funny.”

 

“Okay, fair enough,” said Beca, refolding the paper and pocketing it. “I know it’s not much, we’re still in the early stages, but I wanted to keep you informed. So I’m thinking we should do some sort of weekly thing, starting this Thursday night maybe, where we meet up, we get food, we trade information…?”

 

The segue from delivering information on the ancient evil that may or may not be living in Chloe’s fridge to asking her out was done with such ease that even Chloe had to laugh.

 

“I can’t see you Thursday!” she said, even as she did so realising that her scandalous tone felt oddly forced. “The finals are on Friday, Aubrey would kill me if I went out the night before.”

 

Beca shook her head like she wasn’t being understood. “Ms Beale, I really don’t think you’re taking this situation seriously. Something up here in that brain of yours,” – here, she lightly poked Chloe in the forehead – “might think I engage in after hours consultations with all my clients, but that’s not true. I’m making a special exception in this case. Because… well, I’m just gonna come out and say it.” She glanced away. “I respect you. I respect you as a talented singer and a gifted young woman.”

 

Chloe narrowed her gaze, waiting for the gag. Sure enough, Beca’s lip curled and then she was reaching out to fiddle with Chloe’s scarf.

 

“And I respect you as a dresser too, if I’m being honest. This is a wonderful ensemble you’ve gone with today…”

 

The weird thing, Chloe realised as she swatted Beca’s hand away and entirely failed to fight off a grin, was that somewhere along the line she’d become not completely opposed to the idea of saying yes. Over Beca’s shoulder, she spotted Tom watching them with what seemed like increasing concern.

 

“Okay, fine!” she found herself without a good enough reason to say no. “Thursday, my place. Nineish?”

 

Beca’s face lit up. “Nineish it is. We’ll be going somewhere else for food, though, because your kitchen still freaks me out.”

 

Chloe walked away quickly, afraid she might change her mind. Her inner-Aubrey was questioning how wise this decision was, but ever since she’d opened that damn fridge she found herself extra open to things that made her feel happy. The grin she could feel Beca giving her made her happy.

 

“Hey,” said Tom when she came back to his side. His coolness seemed more artificial than before. “So, who was that?”

 

“Oh,” said Chloe, as they started heading for the street. “Just a friend.”

 

Tom nodded, yet seemed anxious to clarify: “A friend?”

 

“Mmhm,” Chloe nodded, eyes on her feet and hoping that would signal the end of the conversation. But of course, this was when Beca chose to start calling out to her.

 

“Okay, so I’ll see you Thursday night!” she yelled from all the way over by the fountain. “And I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you, sir, but I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. You’re still looking very pale though. Maybe get some rest?”

 

Tom was a lot quieter as he hailed Chloe a cab.

 

* * *

 

 

Beca’s good mood wouldn’t last.

 

It was early evening by the time she got back to the firehouse. Kimmy-jin breezed past her by the front doors, backpack over her shoulder and stopping just long enough to say “They’re downstairs.”

 

Beca climbed the narrow set of steel steps at the back of the firehouse that led down to the basement. When they first bought the building, this had been a huge, echoing room. But then Jesse and Benji had set to work installing the one-of-a-kind ghost containment unit that most of their business loan had gone towards financing. Now, that huge room had been walled off, and all that was left was a tiny, shoe-box sized area full of complicated-looking power cables which all fed into a bright red metal hatch built into the bricks. Here, she found Jesse, and a very puzzled-looking Amy.

 

“So,” Jesse said, holding a fresh, ghost-filled trap, “this may be the most advanced piece of paranormal machinery on the planet, but it’s actually pretty simple to use. First you gotta insert your trap.” There was a little, square slot on the wall which he opened and slid the trap into. “Then make sure you open a pathway and neutranize the field…” He pressed an impossibly complicated sequence of buttons on the face of the containment unit. “And I guess the rest is obvious.”

 

There was a big lever at the side of the trap slot, and when he pulled down on it with the required burst of strength, the sound of heavy, out of sight machinery going to work could be heard. Jesse opened the little door and removed the now empty trap.

 

Amy leaned forward to peer at the containment unit. “So… the ghost is inside this thing?”

 

“That’s more like mailbox,” said Beca, from where she had sat herself down on the last step. “Our actual penitentiary of ghoulish fiends is – ” Behind the wall, there were three steady, echoing _thud_ s. “ – on the other side.”

 

A beat of silence followed this, as the _thud_ s faded away. Then Amy was grinning.

 

“Can’t believe I almost took that job at the law firm in Hell’s Kitchen. This place is way cooler.”

 

“Hear that, Beca?” asked Jesse, throwing an arm around Amy and giving Beca a ‘told-you-so’ glare. “She said ‘cool’. Honestly it’s going to be so refreshing to have another enthusiastic Ghostbuster around here.”

 

Footsteps on the metal grates announced Benji’s arrival. He squeezed past Beca on the last step and walked over to the containment unit without saying a single word to anyone else. Too busy scribbling on a notepad and mumbling math under his breath.

 

“Uh… Benji?” Beca called. He looked up at her impatiently. “Hi! What’cha doing there?”

 

“I’m freaking out, you guys,” he said, dropping the notepad to the floor so he could use his hands to claw at his own hair. “We’re picking up way more ghosts than we ever projected. More than the city should be home to.” He turned back to the containment unit. “It’s getting really crowded in there.”

 

“They can’t escape, can they?” asked Amy with trepidation. “Because if there’s a chance of a ghost-led prison break…”

 

“Relax,” said Jesse, motioning to the many different power cables running all over the basement. “There’d have to be a total loss of power for a breakout to be possible, and that’s what all these are in place to prevent.”

 

“It’s true,” said Beca. “Later, I’ll show you our electricity bill. It’s cray-cray.”

 

“Ghosts getting out isn’t what I’m worried about,” said Benji. He struggled to find his words for a few second, before reaching into his pocket and producing a twinkie. “Okay, so, like, imagine a twinkie could represent the amount of psycho-kinetic energy in the New York area. Based on recent data? It would have to be a twinkie that was thirty-five feet long and weighed at least six hundred pounds.”

 

Jesse’s face fell. “Holy shit.”

 

“So what’s the big deal?” asked Beca, her and Amy still exchanging lost glances. “More spooks, more calls, more bucks. We’ve got a fourth member now, we can handle the extra work.”

 

Jesse shook his head. “You don’t get it. If that many ghosts are just roaming around the city, it means that the borders between their world and ours are getting… thin. Like, dangerously thin. Enough for something a lot worse than a ghost bear or a slimer to come through.”

 

“What do you mean ‘worse’?” asked Amy.

 

Jesse could only shrug, but Benji was giving Beca a knowing look.

 

“Well,” he said, “a book I read really recently springs to mind...”

 

The long, fearful silence that followed was broken by Amy, who very quietly mused “Who’d have thought a giant twinkie could ever be a bad thing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> 1) Chloe and Beca by the fountains at Lincoln Center is the first thing I thought of and is what made me want to write this story. 
> 
> 2) I tried to put a Pitch Perfect spin on the "You're still looking very pale though" line, (originally this was going to be when Beca first met Aubrey and her line would have been "I'm sorry I didn't get to meet you, Miss Pitch Pipe"), but I think the original line is pretty perfect. 
> 
> 3) Writing Amy is weird because it can really easily just become un-cool fat jokes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe agrees to go on a date with Beca, and so begins the end of the world.

**Thursday**

 

Cadet Chicago observed the Ecto 1 as it slowly climbed the hill which led up to the gates of Fort Hamilton.

“You’re late,” he said when the car came to a halt and its two passengers stepped out.

“Sorry,” said Jesse. “Traffic on the bridge was pretty rough.”

Amy shot Chicago a smile and pointed two finger guns at him. “Fortunately, we have a ‘30 minutes or less’ policy, which means that your service today will be free of charge.”

“Amy, no,” said Jesse quickly. “That’s not a thing. I’m sorry, sir, but we will have to charge you.”

Chicago nodded begrudgingly. “Truth be told, we weren’t sure if you came out to Brooklyn anyway, or if you’d even have the time. According to the news, you folks have been pretty busy.”

Amy sighed as she and Jesse made their way to the back of the Ecto 1 and opened the rear doors. “Ugh, it’s not even funny. I’ve worked more in the five days I’ve been with this company than in my entire life. And all for a stupid visa! Honestly I start to wonder if this country is even worth it.” Chicago and Jesse sent her offended looks. “Ahem. Not that I’m not honoured to be here. Thank you for your service, by the way, Mr Soldier.”

“You’re very welcome,” Chicago deadpanned.

“What exactly are we dealing with here, anyway?” Jesse asked. He pulled the rack of proton packs from the car, and looked up at Fort Hamilton. It was an old, probably even pre-civil war building that just screamed ‘I’m haunted’.

“Apparition of a young lady,” said Chicago, shifting uncomfortable as he spoke. “Shows up in the sleeping quarters after sundown. Doesn’t attack, just sorta… stares at you.”

Jesse smiled in sympathy. “I’m guessing they didn’t cover that in basic training?”

“They did not. But this is a functioning military post, and we can’t have that sort of business.”

“Gotcha,” said Jesse, strapping on a proton pack. “We’ll take care of it as fast as we can.”

“That would be much appreciated,” said Chicago. He looked back the way they had came, where one could just about spot the tops of a few Manhattan skyscrapers.  “Hopefully we’ll get you home before that nasty weather comes.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Amy quickly. “No nasty weather headed this way. I checked the forecast for my days off. It’s supposed to be clear skies all through the weekend.”

Chicago glanced back at the sky above Manhattan. “Well,” he said, looking at the thick, dark clouds that seemed to be gathering above the city. “Something’s coming. That’s for sure.”

 

* * *

 

“There you are!”

Chloe flinched at the sound. Aubrey’s voice had taken on a new sense of urgency as the time until the ICCAs steadily ticked away. Being subjected to it unprepared was rough, as was the fiery gaze her Captain gave her from her seat on the floor outside the door to Chloe’s place.

“Where have you been? You’re not answering your phone.”

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Chloe held up the lifeless phone for Aubrey to see. “It died.”

“Whatever,” said Aubrey, standing up and moving aside so Chloe could come and unlock the door. “We have so much to do.”

“I fear you’re exaggerating,” said Chloe, as patiently as possible, “but go on.”

Aubrey breezed past her the second the door was open and began pacing the living room.

“The lighting at Lincoln Center is all wrong. It’s too bright and it makes us look like demons. The air conditioning in the dressing rooms is faulty, so if it’s too hot we’re going to go on stage with pit stains like we just ran the New York Marathon. Plus my heels are too tight and I’m worried it will impede my choreography.”

Chloe took a deep breath as she came into the living room. “Aubrey. Everything is going to be fine. Nit-picking will only drive you crazy and affect your performance. The best thing you can do for the Bellas tonight is to go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

“Ha!” Aubrey laughed. “On the Aca-contrary, we need to pour over every step of our plans tomorrow and run through each possible disaster scenario so that we have a set of strategies for each one.”

“None of that is necessary.”

“I’m the Captain, Chloe, I’ll decide what’s necessary!”

Chloe went quiet. Aubrey did too, and while her face said she had snapped without meaning to, she most certainly did not apologise. She turned around and walked over to the couches. “Let’s get started.”

Chloe looked at the floor. “Aubrey, I can’t do this.”

“You’re only wasting time by arguing with me.”

“No, I mean, I really can’t do this. I have plans.”

Aubrey froze, and then slowly turned to look at Chloe, “What plans could you _possibly_ have made for tonight?”

Chloe hovered on the spot for a beat, but then decided to go the ‘breezy’ route, and walked over to the closet to start picking out what shoes she was going to wear.

“I’m getting some food,” she said with forced-nonchalance . “With Beca.”

The silence as she stared at the closet wall was excruciating. She finally picked a random pair of heels and turned back to see Aubrey looking downright homicidal.

“Aca-scuse me?” she said, through gritted teeth. “You mean to tell me that you’re ditching me the night before the biggest day of our lives, to go out on a date with the girl that’s been scamming you for the past month?”

“Scamming? Are you serious? Watch the news, Aubrey. They’re helping people all over the city.”

“If dim-witted whack-jobs want to pay them to hunt the fictitious ghosts in their basements, that doesn’t make them – ”

“Dim-witted whack-jobs? What, like me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“No,” said Chloe, closing the closet and walking over to her. “Really: you don’t believe me, do you? About what happened here. You never have.”

Aubrey thrust a finger in her face. “Don’t change the subject!”

Chloe pushed her finger away in defiance. “No, I wanna hear you say it. You never believed me.”

_“Of course I didn’t believe you, Chloe! You said you had a monster in your fridge, you’re lucky I didn’t have you committed!”_

The silence returned, worse than before. They stared at each other for a second, before Aubrey started to shake her head and move for the door.

“I’m not gonna let you make me the bad guy when you’re betraying everything a Bella should stand for,” she said, throwing the front door open and pausing just long enough to add: “Enjoy your date,” before she slammed it shut behind her.

Alone, Chloe loosened the fists she didn’t realise she’d been clenching, and collapsed into the armchair facing the window. She watched the city lights glimmer through the glass and thought about how the Bellas had no chance of winning the ICCAs if their two leading members weren’t talking to one another. She was going to have to find Aubrey and make this right. She was going to have to cancel on Beca.

She was about to reach for the phone when she saw something. The arm of her chair was squirming. Little wrinkles were pressing up against the fabric, as though something was crawling around inside it. Before she had the chance to be grossed out, she heard the most awfully familiar noise.

She looked over her shoulder, at the door to the kitchen. The same creaking, growling noise she’d heard on that day was coming from the other side of the door. What’s more, splits and cracks in the wood began to appear on the door, as though it was struggling to withstand a powerful force pressing against it.

Something wriggled against Chloe’s hand, and she looked back down at the armchair. She saw the outline of what was unmistakably a set of fingers underneath the material.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered to no one.

A huge crack split the kitchen door in two. A scaly, clawed hand ripped through the arm of her chair and grabbed hold of her mouth to stifle her scream. A second hand shot out of the opposite armrest and wrapped around her stomach, pinning her against the chair. The half-destroyed door fell forward, and her chair swivelled around of its own accord to face what was waiting for her in the doorway.

Her kitchen was gone. The walls were burnt black and anything that had once stood inside was now dust littering the floor. Unable to yell, her eyes went wide in terror as she saw the same four legged, red-eyed monstrosity she’d glimpsed in the fridge. It now sat patiently on the floor and gazed back at her. A rough snort escaped it’s snout, and it opened its mouth to show her dozens of crooked, jagged fangs.

The chair flew along the floor as though attracted by a magnet. She thrashed and fought against the hands holding her in place, trying to scream loud enough that someone, maybe even Aubrey, might hear. But there was no time. Just before the chair delivered her, she saw the four legged creature open its jaws wide.

“ _Zuul_ ,” it cried.

 

* * *

 

Beca frowned at her reflection, then turned away from the mirror to ask for a second opinion.

“Benji, what do you think – tie, or no tie?”

Benji was all the way on the other side of the firehouse’s third floor, disassembling a washing machine for some unknown reason. When he looked up at her, he only ended up frowning as well.

“What kind of look are you going for?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Beca shrugged, and turned back to the full length mirror that was leaning haphazardly against the wall. She self-consciously adjusted the woollen blazer over her button up shirt and alternated between holding the tie up to it and taking it away. “I guess I’m kind of aiming for ‘intellectual’, but also like I’m not trying too hard. I’m afraid the tie will be overkill, but I’m afraid I’ll look lazy without it.”

“Lazy intellectual sounds like a pretty apt description of you,” said Benji, as he turned back to unscrewing the mechanisms of his washer. “And if you really like this girl, you should make a point to be yourself and not somebody you think she’ll like.”

Beca smirked, oddly touched by that. She discarded the tie over her shoulder and headed for the stairs, stopping to affectionately ruffle Benji’s hair on her way. “I’m pretty fond of you, ya big dork. Don’t burn the place down while I’m out.”

She repeated this warning to Kimmy-Jin when she passed by her desk downstairs. The younger girl merely rolled her eyes without looking up from her laptop, so Beca headed straight for the front doors. She opened it just in time to see someone raising their hand to knock.

“…Dad?”

Dr Mitchell awkwardly lowered his hand. “Hi, Bec.”

Beca stepped out of the firehouse and closed the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

Weirdly, her Dad gave her a big smile. “I finally convinced them.”

Beca blinked in confusion. “Convinced who?”

“The Dean, and the Board of Education. They’re rescinding your expulsion. You can resume your studies in the fall.”

A lot of words got caught in the rush out of Beca’s mouth, leading to a good few seconds of silence. Her Dad must have took this for shocked delight, because he continued to beam at her like it was Christmas Morning.

“I know,” he said. “Honestly, your little publicity hoopla helped, so you deserve some credit for that. But I convinced them that the three of you would be an asset to the University.”

A small, humourless laugh escaped Beca. “The longer you talk it becomes more obvious that you’re serious, but somehow I still can’t believe it.”

Her Dad’s face fell. “What?”

“So, let me get this straight, after you and your university put our stuff in boxes and kicked us out the door, we’ve set up our own company, built a healthy client base in the heart of Manhattan, employed two other staff members – and you think we’re gonna scrap the whole of it, just to come back and sit in a lecture hall?”

“Beca,” Dr Mitchell said sternly, “you absolutely cannot turn this down.”

“Actually, I really can. Watch.” She sidestepped him and started heading down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” he called, jogging to catch up with her. “Beca, please, think about what you’re doing here. This is your future we’re talking about.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she said, trying to spot a passing taxi rather than look at him. “What do I need to do to please you? I’m literally involved with a brand new type of science and bringing a previously unheard of service to the public – how many other people can say that about their daughter?”

“I want better for you than this. I want you to have knowledge and security. A career! This ghost thing is a stunt and we both know people are going to get wise to it any day now.”

She hailed a yellow cab as it appeared around the corner, and when it came to a stop beside her she gave her Dad a helpless shrug.

“I can’t do this with you tonight. I have a date.”

Her Dad softened slightly at that. “You look nice,” he mumbled. “What’s her name?”

“Chloe. You’d like her, I think.” Her Dad nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets and stood there awkwardly. Beca sighed, and opened the taxi door. At the last second, she turned back to him. “You know what’s hilarious? I really thought all this Ghostbusters stuff would finally make you proud of me.”

Her Dad seemed genuinely bothered by that. “I am proud of you.”

She gave him a sad smile before she got inside the cab. “No, you’re not. And I officially give up trying to change that.”

 

* * *

 

Aubrey stormed out of Chloe’s apartment, stormed out of her building, and then stormed all the way down Central Park West before she ran out of steam and came to a stop. There was a bench against the long walls that lined the park, and she sat herself down on it to try and pinpoint where everything had gone wrong. When had the bright-eyed and passionate girl who first befriended Chloe turned into the mean-spirited drill sergeant willing to abandon her only friend if she wasn’t as maniacally devoted to winning as Aubrey was?

This was bullshit, she decided. She didn’t want to be champions this badly. So she stood up from the bench, and prepared to walk back and talk things out. But then she heard a rustling noise from behind the wall. Something was moving in the park bushes just out of sight. She glanced at it warily, and quickened her stride. The rustling continued. Worse, it seemed to remain just as loud, as though whatever was causing it was running along the other side of the wall to keep up with her.

She stopped. So did the rustling. She stepped closer to the wall, curiously. The light from _Tavern on the Green_ just a few feet away was casting a glow on most of the surrounding grass and tree roots, but she still had to lean over the wall and peer down into the dark to try and spot whatever was trailing her. For a second she saw nothing. Then a pair of glowing red eyes blinked open, and she heard a growling to go along with them.

“Oh, shit,” she said to no one.

A scaly, clawed hand shot out and pulled her over the wall.

 

* * *

 

Beca had not been this nervous in a while. As the elevator climbed closer towards Chloe’s floor, her restlessness went into overdrive. She fidgeted with her blazer sleeves, with her shirt collar, with the bouquet of peonies she’d picked up on the way over. Perhaps it felt like the deck was stacked against her, she mused. What with Chloe’s initial distrust of her, Aubrey’s _ongoing_ contempt for her, not to mention the fanciness of this damn apartment building. Even the spotless walls of the elevator made her feel like a peasant trying to woo an aristocrat’s daughter.

But when the elevator reached Chloe’s floor and she stepped out into the hallway, she did so with determination. She was Beca F’N Mitchell and she was going to romance the hell out of this girl. She walked the short distance to Chloe’s door, and as she knocked on it she tried to project an aura of confidence.

Then the door opened, and that all went to hell.

It was definitely Chloe standing on the other side of the door, but it took Beca a double take to make sure. She looked… different. Her hair was wild and unkempt, like she’d taken a stroll through a hurricane. She was dressed in a thin, off the shoulder gown the colour of a sunset, with a sash tied around the waist to stop the whole thing simply falling off her body. Totally barefoot but wearing more eyeshadow than even Beca as a freshman would have gone for, she leaned lazily against the doorframe and curiously looked Beca up and down.

Beca had to wait a few seconds for her brain to reboot before she was able to say, “Uhhh… hi?”

“Are you the Key Master?” she asked in a misty voice.

Beca searched for the hidden meaning in that. “Um. Not that I know of.”

This seemed to disappoint Chloe, as she closed the door in Beca’s face.

For a good few seconds, Beca stood there in the hallway wondering if that had really just happened, before reaching up to knock again. The door quickly re-opened, and a visibly irritated Chloe re-asked. “Are you the Key Master?”

“Oh, totes,” said Beca, and quickly hopped over the threshold before the door could be slammed again, and waited until Chloe hesitantly closed it behind her to amend her statement. “Well, I’m a friend of hers, anyway. She said it’d be cool if I hung out until she gets here, I hope that’s okay?” Chloe looked mildly annoyed, but she didn’t kick her out, which Beca took as a good sign. “I didn’t get you name?”

Chloe raised her chin and said with great pride: “I am Zuul, I am the Gatekeeper.”

Then she walked away from the doorway, leaving Beca more confused than ever.

“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “Listen, I’m not necessarily against roleplay _per se_ , but I do think it’s a bit fast for us to… oh.”

She trailed off when she finally got a good look at the inside of the apartment. Far from the fashionable midtown penthouse it had once been, everything in sight looked to have been scorched. The couch Chloe was currently lounging across was barely still solid, threatening to crumble to ash at any moment, and the fancy bookcases and coffee tables were all dripping with what Beca guessed was ectoplasmic slime.

“So, way worse than roleplay,” she said, looking at Chloe. “You’re Zuul. I mean… you’re _actually_ Zuul.”

“The Gatekeeper,” Chloe confirmed.

Beca let the bouquet of peonies drop to the floor.

“Well, shit. That kinda ruins our dinner plans, huh?”

 

* * *

 

A sharp knock on the firehouse doors made Kimmy-Jin look up from her laptop, where she was secretly proof-reading a paper as opposed to Ghostbusters work. She closed the document with an annoyed sigh and walked across the cobbled floor to big wooden doors.

“You a Ghostbuster?” said the Cop standing outside the firehouse, giving her an unimpressed once over.

“No, I just seem to have offended certain gods in a past life, and now I answer the phones here,” was Kimmy-Jin’s curt reply. The cop looked confused. She sighed again. “Are you picking somebody up or dropping somebody off?”

“Dropping off.”

“Wait here.”

She climbed the two sets of staircases until she found Benji with most of his upper body stuffed into a half-destroyed washing machine. This man was her superior, she thought ruefully.

“Benji, there’s a New York City Police Officer at your door and I’m trying to work. It’s really inconvenient.”

“Damnit, Beca,” said Benji, removing himself from the washer and dropping his tools. “I knew somebody was going to get pissed off about that siren eventually.”

He followed her downstairs and back to the front door, where the Cop beckoned him over to the large Police Van parked on the curb. Kimmy-Jin decided tagged along.

“We got a call about a public disturbance in the park,” the officer explained. “And we found this chick chasing down random pedestrians and yelling at them. Now we were gonna take her to the nut house, but when we got her in the van her eyes started glowing and it freaked us out. We thought maybe you might wanna take a look at her.”

The door to the van was opened, and a young, wild-eyed woman leant out into the moonlight.

“Aubrey?!” exclaimed Benji.

“You know her?” asked the cop.

“Are you the Gatekeeper?” Aubrey babbled. “Because I need to find the Gatekeeper. I’ve been looking all over, I looked in that forest, I looked in this metal prison, I can’t find the Gatekeeper anywhere. Will you help me find the Gatekeeper?”

“This is the sort of stuff she says,” the Cop explained. “What’s that?”

Benji had pulled out a PKE meter from his back pocket and held it up to Aubrey. Aubrey looked at it too with great fascination, and a bright red glimmer began to emanate from her pupils.

“You better bring her inside,” said Benji quickly.

The Cop shrugged and began releasing Aubrey from her handcuffs. Kimmy-Jin looked at Benji with mild surprise.

“She didn’t seem to much like us, if you remember?”

“Uh-huh,” Benji mumbled.

“And you’re helping her anyway. Wow. I didn’t peg you as the humanitarian type.” Benji seemed to frown at that. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, glancing down at the readings on the PKE meter. “It’s just… well, I _think_ she’s still human, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

“You should stay,” said Chloe, drawing herself up from the couch and gliding dream-like around the room. “There is much to do.”

“Really?” asked Beca, trying insanely hard not to notice how much leg was on show in the ridiculous slit that ran up Chloe’s dress. “Like what, exactly?”

“We must prepare for the coming of Gozer.”

“Gozer, huh?” said Beca, watching Chloe lightly kick the bedroom door open and wander inside.

“The destructor,” she replied.

Beca came to stand in the bedroom doorway, watching Chloe turn to face her, then simply allow herself to fall backwards, an unsettling smile coming across her face as the mattress broke her fall.

“Well,” said Beca, coming to stand by the bed. “I wouldn’t wanna be a distraction if you’re gonna be busy with Gozer stuff all night. So if I could just speak with Chloe real quick, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Chloe slowly shook her head and smiled that terribly disconcerting smile again. “There is no Chloe. Only Zuul. But this body, you lust after it, don’t you?”

A scandalised (but also panicked) laugh escaped Beca. “Wow! Woah. Okay. Let me stop you right there. First of all, Zuul-y, we’ve only just met so, y’know, boundaries.” Chloe cocked her head to the side happily, as though watching Beca stutter was like watching a baby animal find its feet. “Secondly, that is a prime example of the predatory gay trope, a-a-and I don’t much care for it. To be frank.”

Chloe rolled over onto her front, and begun crawling down the bed towards Beca. Beca’s brain appeared to be buffering, because she was frozen in place and powerless to do anything but watch with wide eyes as Chloe rose up onto her knees to grip the lapels of her blazer, pulling Beca close enough that she could whisper in her ear.

“Take me now, sub-creature.”

“Tempting, but you know what else is fun on first dates? Exorcisms!”

But then Chloe tugged on her lapels, with way more force than she should have been capable of, and flung Beca down on the bed so she could climb on top of her.

“Look,” Beca squeaked, “please don’t take this personally, but it’s just that I very vividly remember Jesse once telling me: ’Never, ever get involved with possessed people!’”

Chloe leaned in faster than Beca could react, and then she was kissing her. Her lips pushed Beca’s open and her tongue found its way inside.

“I mean,” Beca mumbled against Chloe’s face, “he might not have said ‘never, _ever_ ’. And it was honestly so long ago that – actually, no, it’s probably best if I just do this.”

She gripped Chloe by the hips and rolled the two of them over so Beca was now on top and pinning Chloe down by the shoulders. But still Chloe struggled and writhed against her, her mascara-covered eyes piercing into her own.

“I want you inside me,” she growled.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Beca grunted. “I mean, that’s sweet, really, but it sounds like you’ve got at least two people in there already. Might get a little crowded.”

Chloe broke out of her grasp and tried to catch her lips again, so Beca dived off to the side of the bed and used her standing leverage to hold the other woman down.

“Okay, look,” she said gently. “This would normally be my absolute best case scenario for how I wanted this evening to play out. And I’m talking, like, _Dear Penthouse Forum_ kind of best case scenario. But since there’s that pesky little issue of informed consent, it’s actually more upsetting and disturbing than steamy, so why don’t we just take a breather.” That amused smirk came across Chloe’s face again, and she willingly lay back on the bed instead of pouncing on Beca. “What I’d really like to do is talk to Chloe. Can you swing that for me, Zuul?”

Chloe shook her head like she was talking to an infant, and repeated, “There is no Chloe. Only Zuul.”

“Of course there’s a Chloe,” Beca insisted. “This is her apartment, and that’s her body you’re using to make a pass at me. She’s honestly going to be furious with you. So come on, just let me talk to her. Chloe? It’s Beca. Are you still in there?”

Chloe bit her lip as though fighting off a giggle, and when she spoke again, it was in the most beastly, demonic voice that Beca had ever heard.

_“There. Is. No. Chloe. Only. Zuul.”_

“Then how am I hearing that beautiful voice she uses to provide bass for the Barden Bellas, huh?” Despite the quip, Beca was done joking. All of this seemed to be pointing towards something very bad. “Now I’m only going to ask this one more time, before I call up my friends who specialise in shooting highly unstable equipment at supernatural beings. I’m gonna count to three, and if I don’t get to talk to Chloe Beale, shit is gonna get _real_ up in the apartment.”

Chloe had started to breath very erratically. Her chest was rising and falling so sharply that Beca only grew more panicked.

“One!” she said.

Chloe’s eyes looked at hers one more time, and then rolled back into her head so that Beca was staring at the whites of her eyeballs.

“Two!”

Her breaths continued to come in and out at great speeds, and her hands stretched out to either side of her body as though trying to claw at the air.

“Two and a half!”

And then shit got real. Just not in the way Beca had intended.

Chloe started to levitate. Her whole body came up off the mattress, and climbed steadily into the air, stopping only when her hips were at eye level with Beca. And then she simply hung there, in mid-air, occasionally letting out animalistic grunts. Beca looked beneath her, waved her hands all through the area between the bed and Chloe’s body as though looking for strings, but found nothing. Whatever had taken hold of Chloe was powerful beyond anything she’d ever seen.

And the only thing Beca could think to say, in a quiet, dejected voice, was, “I was really looking forward to our date.”

 

* * *

 

Aubrey seemed happy to be ushered in to the firehouse, taken upstairs and sat in a chair. Her eyes, no longer glowing, roamed around the building in a childlike look of fascination that very much did not fit with the young woman that Benji and Kimmy-Jin had previously met.

“What are these?” she asked when Benji attempted to place little sensor pads on either side of her temple.

“They’re scientific instruments,” he replied. “They’re gonna help me see what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

“Will they help me find the Gatekeeper? I really need to find the Gatekeeper.”

Benji shrugged. “Sure.”

Aubrey smiled widely and allowed him to continue. Kimmy-Jin walked around the chairs that they sat in, and studied their guest with great interest.

“So, you have no memory of ever meeting us before tonight?”

“Should I? Have we crossed paths before? Did we meet at the Rectification of the Vuldronaii? If so, I apologise if I don’t remember you, I was very busy that fortnight assisting in the great slaughter.”

Kimmy-Jin held Aubrey’s maddening gaze for a second, then turned to Benji. “Is this for real?”

“Keep her talking,” he insisted, busy with the laptop that the sensor pads connected to.

“I’m Kimmy-Jin,” she said reluctantly. “And this is Benji. We met a few weeks ago when you and your friend Chloe came to us for help?”

Aubrey shrugged pleasantly. “Sorry, I don’t know any of those names. I am Vinz Clortho, Key Master of Gozer.”

Benji looked up sharply. “Gozer? Sorry, did you just say Gozer?”

Aubrey nodded excitedly. “The Traveller. I’m waiting for his sign.”

“What the hell is Gozer?” asked Kimmy-Jin.

“He’s the Destructor,” Aubrey replied. “He will come in one of the pre-chosen forms and lay waste to everywhere that grass grows so he can plant his own seeds before moving on to the next garden.”

Benji and Kimmy-Jin shared a look, and then Benji carefully closed the laptop and reached forward to take the sensors off of Aubrey’s head.

“I don’t think these are gonna be much help.”

Kimmy-Jin picked up the upstairs phone when it started to ring.

“This is the Ghostbusters,” she said. “But to be honest, unless you have Satan himself hiding in your closet, we’re gonna have to call you back.”

On the other line, Beca rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for your snark right now, kid. Put Benji on the phone.”

“Well hello to you too,” she mumbled, but did as she was told.

“So hey, good news and bad,” said Beca, once Benji could hear her. “I have a ton of new information on Gozer, but I’m starting to think he might have slipped something in my girlfriend’s drink.”

“Chloe? Is she okay?”

“Well I just gave her about ten to fifteen sleeping pills and she seems to have turned in for the night, but before that she was perfecting her Walking Dead audition tape, and it was really worryingly good.” Benji heard Beca exhale a shaky breath, and when she spoke again the humour was gone from her voice. “She’s saying she’s the Gatekeeper. Does that make any sense to you?”

Benji looked up at Aubrey, who had picked up his laptop and was sniffing it extensively. “Actually, it kinda does. NYPD gave Aubrey a ride over to the firehouse, she’s here with me now, and she’s very insistent that we call her the Key Master.”

“No way,” Beca gasped. “Is she dressed like a temptress and being all aggressively sexual with you?”

“…no. Why do you ask?”

Beca went quiet on the other line. “Um. No reason. Anyway, listen, I’m gonna make sure Chloe’s okay and then I’m gonna run right over. Can you keep Aubrey contained until I get there.”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” said Beca. Then she paused again, and asked, “Benji, what the hell is happening?”

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. In front of him, Aubrey’s eyes started to glow, and the lights in the firehouse flickered. “But we’ll figure it out.”

He said his goodbyes to Beca and hung up, then looked at Kimmy-Jin.

“We need to find Jesse and Amy and get them back here right away. I have a really bad feeling that this is just getting started.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Amy took one hand off the steering wheel to turn the radio down that Jesse looked up from his work.

They were on their way back from Fort Hamilton, having trapped the lingering spirit of a bereaved woman and been treated to two cups of hot cocoa from Chicago. Jesse had been content to let Amy drive them back to the firehouse, making use of the spare twenty minutes by examining those blueprints City Hall had finally relinquished.  He must have been examining pretty damn hard, because they were already on the bridge when the sudden silence caused him to raise his gaze.

“Why are you turning the music off?”

“Because,” said Amy, glancing at him in between keeping her eyes on the road. “We never talk, Jesse. We’ve worked together for like a week now, and I still don’t feel like I know you. Who is Jesse Swanson?”

Jesse paused to consider this, and found it to be startlingly true.

“Oh. Okay,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Well, I grew up in - ”

“Like, for example, I’m from Tasmania,” said Amy loudly. “And I’m in a whole other country, a whole other continent even, and I guess I’d like someone to talk about that with sometimes.”

Jesse smirked despite himself, bidding goodbye to his unfinished sentence.

“You can talk to me anytime, Amy,” he said genuinely. “But I just gotta look at these real quick.”

Amy side-eyed the many sheets of paper spread out both across Jesse’s lap and the dashboard.

“What are those anyway?”

“Well, officially they’re the blueprints for Chloe Beale’s apartment building, but they’re also a pretty good example of why Beca is a little out of her depth with this girl. I mean, look, her apartment has a pantry. A pantry!”

Amy nodded in understanding. “Good looks and charm are preferred. But snagging the girl or guy with a walk-in food closet - that’s the dream. But seriously, why are you are so bothered by them.”

“Well, to be honestly the pantry isn’t the only worrying thing about this place. Some of the materials listed here are really, really weird. There’s a magnesium-tungsten alloy in the roof cap, and all the girders are filled with pure selenium.”

“So what?”

“That’s really not standard for pre-war apartment buildings on Central Park West, and it’s just something else about this building that just plain doesn’t make sense.”

“Hmm,” said Amy vaguely, and then blurted out: “So anyway, back to me and needing to voice certain things.”

“Fine,” said Jesse, putting down the blueprints. “What’s up, Amy?”

The other girl seemed to ponder her next words carefully. Jesse saw her face frowning in confusion every time it was illumined by the bright lights they were passing under on the bridge, and when she finally spoke, it was one of the last things Jesse had been expecting to hear.

“Jesse, do believe in God? I mean, were you religious growing up?”

“Oh,” Jesse said, having to get past the surprise to think of his answer. “Uhh no, I guess not. When I first started high school I sometimes volunteered at a church social committee, but only because I thought it‘d look good on college applications. But that’s about it. What about you?”

“Not really, but I like to keep up with all the ins and outs of it, for self-preservation reasons. I don’t want to die in some weird-arse rapture just because it wasn’t my chosen faith. Fat Amy ain’t going out that way.”

Jesse nodded with a smile. “Good thinking.”

“Thanks. But what I mean is… you know how there’s all that stuff in the bible about the end of the world? Like, the last days, and the dead rising from the grave?”

Jesse found himself struck by a long forgotten memory.

“Actually, yeah. The priest at the social committee used to always say this really weird bible verse: _Revelations 7:12_ \- I remember because it used to freak me out how he’d say it to old ladies, little kids, everybody. ‘ _And I looked as he opened the sixth seal, and behold there was a great earthquake, and the sun became as black as sackcloth, and the moon became as blood…’_ ”

Amy nodded like that was exactly what she‘d been thinking of. _“…And the seas boiled, and the skies fell,_ ” she finished.

For a second, Amy took her eyes off the road so she and Jesse could lock gazes, and they both said “Judgement Day.”

A unnerving silence found its way into the car. Amy turned back to the road. Jesse looked thoughtfully out of the window. But then the moment passed, and he laughed.

“This job’s weird, Amy, but don’t go getting all grim on us. That’s just old-world superstition.”

Amy laughed too, but it wasn’t as heartfelt. “Right,” she said. “Yeah. Superstitious. Thing is though, I mean the reason I bring it up is… do you ever find yourself thinking that maybe the reason we’ve been so busy lately is because the dead have been rising from the grave?”

And that brought the silence back. Along with thoughts of how busy they _had_ been these last few weeks, and how the hole of Chloe’s apartment building just kept getting deeper, and how Benji kept saying he was worried something big was on the horizon.

Jesse folded the blueprints up and put them safely away in the glove compartment.

“Hey,” he said breezily. “How about we turn the radio back on?”

Amy nodded gravely. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea.”

 

* * *

 

Beca placed Chloe’s phone back on her nightstand extra carefully, lest she wake her up. But Chloe was knocked right out, hands folded neatly on her stomach and head lolled to the side. Beca watched her breathe for a few moments, still finding something wrong with the rhythm.

“Honey, you’re not gonna believe this,” she said quietly, sitting down next to Chloe and moving some hair out of her face. “That was work on the phone, they need me to come in right away. Sorry about dinner. But if you stay here in bed until I get back, I promise to make it up to you.” Chloe obviously did not reply. Beca watched her with concern. “Hang in there, Beale. I promised I’d fix all this before I took you out, and if that means I have to fight a deity, so be it.” She awkwardly reached out and squeezed one of Chloe’s hands, then stood up, put on her jacket, and glared at the walls of the apartment. “Come at me, Gozer.”


	10. Chapter 10

It was early morning by the time Beca made it back to the firehouse. Kimmy-Jin was laying face down on her desk, her head resting against the keyboard of her open laptop. Beca briefly held her hand beneath the other girl’s nose until she felt her exhaling and, satisfied that she was asleep and not dead as a result of rolling her eyes with such force that her whole body had given out under the strain, Beca made her way upstairs.

Here, she found Aubrey tied to an office chair. Benji was sitting opposite her, peering into her pupils with some sort of magnification device. Jesse, still in his Ghostbusters uniform, was standing at Benji’s side, using a towel to apply pressure to his elbow. Amy was asleep on the couch against the wall.

“Y’know,” said Beca, announcing her presence, “context is a funny thing. If you’d told me last night that I’d stumble home from my date with Chloe in the early sunlight, wearing the same clothes I went out in, I’d have pictured an entirely different situation than the one we’re actually in. Likewise, if you’d told me that I’d find you two and Aubrey involved in some light bondage…”

Benji put the device down and frowned deeply. “The light in her eyes is definitely paranormal. There’s nothing that could create that sort of glow.”

“What are the wrist-ties for?”

“Aubrey,” said Jesse sternly. “Would you like to tell Beca why you’re being restrained?”

Aubrey gave a brief, puzzled look, but then noticed the towel that Jesse was still pressing against his arm. “Is it because of the stabbing?”

“It’s because of the stabbing, that’s right.”

Benji shrugged at Beca. “She gets a little excited when somebody mentions Gozer.”

“Gozer!” Aubrey exclaimed, jolting suddenly in her chair. “Where? Is it time? Is this the sign? I have to go, I have to find the Gatekeeper!”

Whilst Benji patted her head in what he likely thought to be a soothing gesture, Beca grumpily removed her jacket and threw it over the pool table.

“Sorry, dude, the Gatekeeper is currently drooling into her floral-patterned pillow cases,”

“Is she alright?” asked Jesse.

“Great, she’s walking on air.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “I was just asking how she was, no need to get all snarky.”

“Oh, I wasn’t. She’s literally walking on air. She’s levitating, dude.”

Benji and Jesse turned to one another with equally grave looks (Aubrey mimicked them, for fear of being left out).

 “We need to get a handle on this,” said Jesse. “And quick.”

Benji nodded. “The most important thing is to keep Aubrey and Chloe as far away from each other as possible.” Jesse and Beca looked at him in confusion. “Isn’t that obvious? ‘Gatekeeper’, ‘Key Master’? Don’t you get it?”

“I hate to interrupt,” said Aubrey delicately, “but I need to be going. I really can’t afford to miss my sign.”

“What is she talking about?” asked Jesse. “What sign?”

Benji might have been about to explain, but Beca’s exasperated sigh cut him off.

“Are you kidding me, Applebaum?” she fumed, walking over to one of the second floor windows and pointing out the black wire visible on the other side of the glass. “I specifically told you not to conduct that stupid weather experiment, and you chose today of all days to just go ahead and do it anyway? What, were you hoping I wouldn’t notice cables hanging from the roof because the girl I like is possessed?”

Benji, however, seemed just as bothered by the sight of the dangling wire as everyone else. “I haven’t set up any weather experiment.”

“Uh, guys?” said Jesse, pointing to another window on the opposite side of the room, where an identical wire was hanging. And when they each glanced around, they saw a wire hanging outside of every single window of the whole building.

“They’re very noisy,” Aubrey complained.

“Who are?” asked Jesse.

She nodded upwards. “The men on your roof.”

If you were quiet, you could indeed hear the patter of footsteps coming from above. And if you heard that, you’d probably easily hear a voice shouting _“Three, two, one: breach!”_

Beca turned back to the window just in time to see a man dressed in all black body armour slide down the wire.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fu – ” is all she managed to say, before Jesse dragged her out of harm’s way.

The windows were smashed. The men hopped into the firehouse. They pointed guns at everyone in sight.

“Homeland Security! Nobody move!” one of them yelled.

Fat Amy shot up from the couch.

“Immigration - scatter!”

She bolted for the stairs, one of the armed men hurrying after her. The rest of them stayed put; Beca, Benji and Jesse throwing their surrendering hands up into the air, whilst Aubrey glanced around and looked more unsure than panicked.

“I don’t _think_ this is my sign…” she mumbled to herself.

“What the hell is going on right now?” Beca yelled.

“You’re all under arrest,” said one of the officers, coming to grab hold of her wrists and handcuff them behind her back, as his colleagues did the same to Jesse and Benji. “We got a tip that you were planning a domestic terrorist attack, and when we checked it out we discovered you’ve been aggressively trying to get your hands on the structural information of an uptown skyscraper, and you’re building is using suspiciously high levels of power.” The officer noticed Aubrey, still tied to her chair. “Also, kidnapping, I guess,” he added.

“This is a mistake,” Jesse said, as the Homeland agents began to march/drag them downstairs. “I can explain everything. I was just _asking_ for those blueprints, for a client of ours, and that lady behind the desk totally overreacted.”

“And the power we’re using is feeding a spectral containment unit,” Benji added. “There’s nothing else like it in the world, that’s why the power levels are strange!”

Beca cringed. “Benji, maybe keep quiet about our ghost vault until we get a lawyer. And anyway,” she said, as they came to the ground floor, “who the hell would call in a tip accusing us of terrorism?!”

When she reached the foot of the stairs, she found Bumper sitting on Kimmy-Jin’s desk, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. He shrugged at her.

“See something, say something.”

Enraged, Beca tried to lunge at him, but her Homeland agent easily held her back, so she settled for threatening him instead.

“Oh, I am going to kick that smirk off your face, you little dork, and I’m gonna film it and then I’m going to show it to John Mayer and we’re gonna laugh about it! You are _dead_ , you hear me?!”

“Okay, maybe we should _all_ try being quiet until we have a lawyer,” said Jesse

An officer came down the stairs with Aubrey, who was now untied and had a shock blanket around her shoulders.

“Hey guys?” she said to the Ghostbusters as she passed. “Thanks for the food and the shelter and all that stuff, but I’m gonna take off now. I have to find the Gatekeeper and make sure everything is set for the coming of the Destructor. But hey, maybe I’ll see you during the Great Burning, huh? That’d be nice!”

This time it was Benji struggling against his captor. “Wait, you cannot let that woman out into the city! The consequences could be apocalyptic.”

“Was that Posen?” said Bumper, watching in disbelief as a delusional Aubrey was led out of the firehouse and into the light of day. “What did you guys _do_ to her? I swear to god, if I knew you were gonna turn the Bella’s Captain into a total nut-job on the day of the ICCA Finals, I would have never got you arrested for terrorism.” A few of the officers gave him a strange look. “Kidding! Protecting my fellow citizens is totally my priority. USA number one!”

“Whatever,” said the agent holding Beca. “Let’s wrap this up. Get these guys in the van and then shut off whatever they were using all that power for.”

They each went limp to stop the agents dragging them out of the firehouse.

“Hey!”

“Woah!”

“Not a good idea!”

“Listen,” said Beca. “You absolutely, positively cannot shut off our power.”

“That’s a highly sophisticated piece of equipment downstairs,” said Jesse. “You can’t just pull the plug on it, it’d be like dropping a bomb in the middle of the city.”

“So it _was_ a bomb?” said the officer. “And it’s downstairs. Boys!”

More men in black appeared and headed towards the back of the firehouse. Beca could hear them marching down the metal steps of the basement as she was dragged kicking and screaming out of the building.

Outside, they found themselves in the middle of a huge police operation. There were armoured cars blocking the street, which must have been cordoned off with tape right after Beca arrived. Cops and agents and men in suits were everywhere. They even found Kimmy-Jin standing next to a black van, also in handcuffs and looking just about as ‘done’ as they had ever seen her.

“Hey, so: I’m being arrested. I hate to be a stickler, but that wasn’t listed anywhere on the job description.”

“I second that,” said Amy, when two agents brought her over to the rest of the group, red in the face and out of breath from her attempted escape. “Why didn’t you guys tell me you were terrorists?”

“We’re _not_ terrorists!” said Beca irritably. “We’re being set up.”

Bumper chose that minute to exit the firehouse and saunter over to them. “Set up? But who would ever want to set up New York’s beloved Ghostbusters?”

“I’m a little out of the loop here,” said Jesse, looking at Bumper without a trace of recognition. “Who is this?”

“He fell over in front of John Mayer and he blames us,” Beca shrugged.

“Well that doesn’t make much sense,” Benji frowned. “Why is it our fault if you lost your footing?”

“I didn’t just _‘lose my footing’_ ,” Bumper snapped. “I slipped in whatever green gloop you were all covered in.”

“Well it’s not our fault if you can’t look where you’re going,” said Amy. “Or if you get all clumsy around celebrities!”

Jesse nodded. “Honestly, John Mayer probably doesn’t even remember you or that you even fell at all.”

“Shut up!” Bumper yelled suddenly, his eyes doing wild, unblinking thing again. “You ruined the moment that would have kick-started Bumper & John Mayer’s epic, totally platonic bromance. Well, now it’s time for you to pay.”

“You idiot,” said Beca through a clenched jaw. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Or what’s about to happen when they shut off our power without following any safety procedures?”

Beca rolled his eyes. “Gimmie a break. So I pull the plug on all your lame little ghost catching toys. Boo-hoo, cry me a – ”

A rumbling noise cut off his jibe. The sturdy concrete beneath their feet began to vibrate. Somewhere within the firehouse, a klaxon noise had started to wail. Beca, Jesse and Benji each knew what it meant, but Amy, Kimmy-Jin, and Bumper turned back to the building in alarm, just in time to see all of the remaining Homeland agents come running out of the front doors.

“Everybody down,” shouted one of the men. “Something’s gonna blow!” 

* * *

Uptown, Chloe lay knocked out in her bed, seemingly at peace but with a battle raging inside. Zuul’s consciousness was trying to fight off the sleeping pills that had rendered this human body immobile, but it needed something more. Something to jerk the body back awake.

The sound of a distant explosion drifted through the bedroom window. 

Chloe’s eyes shot open.

* * *

The firehouse doors were flung open by the force of the explosion. For a second, everyone standing outside got a glimpse of the huge column of fire that burst up from the basement, tore through all three floors of the building, and then blew its way out of the roof of the firehouse.

Everybody hit the deck. Smoke covered the area in seconds. Sparks and debris rained down from the roof top. Bystanders were screaming, officers were radioing for backup, and Beca heard Aubrey somewhere close by, yelling ecstatically “This is it! This is the sign!”

When the worst of the blast was over and everybody staggered to their feet, Beca saw Bumper gazing up at the gutted firehouse. When he eventually turned around, he saw all four Ghostbusters and Kimmy-Jin glaring at him.

“Well,” he said, coughing slightly from smoke inhalation. “This probably makes us even for the whole John Mayer thing, so I’m gonna just go ahead and take off.”

Beca jumped at him. With no hands free to strike his doofus face with, she instead launched her whole body in his general direction (hoping maybe to hit him with her hip bone) and took them both to the floor.

Cops rushed to break up the struggle. Beca and the others were eventually loaded into the vans and driven away. But that wasn’t the worst part. Nobody was watching the worst part.

Every ghost ever caught by the Ghostbusters had just been released. They had shot into the sky in a flurry of fire, and now were free to roam about Manhattan as they pleased. Within minutes, small pockets of chaos began to show up all over the city. People got into taxis only to find them staffed by cigar-toting zombies with no care for the speed limit. At least two ghost bears found their way into Macy’s and wreaked havoc. A ghostly façade fell over Times Square and transformed it from the modern, tourist-friendly hub to the squalid collection of porno-theaters it had once been.

This, still, was not the worst part. These were the strays. The bulk of the released ghosts didn’t drop down into the city looking for trouble, but instead found themselves oddly drawn in a particular direction. They headed north from the Ghostbusters’ TriBeCa headquarters, passing all the major landmarks one might storm when wanting to cause trouble in New York, until they found the large stretch of green known as Central Park. Here, they headed to the west side, until they found the structure that seemed to be calling out to them like a flame to a moth.

Aubrey watched them swarm around the apartment building in a frenzy. She’d followed them all the way uptown, and she knew they had led her to the right place when she saw them zero in on one particular apartment. She heard the windows shattering from twenty stories above her, and smiled when the shards rained down on the pavement around her. While others yelled and ran for cover, she calmly approached the front doors and went inside.

She climbed the many sets of stairs one by one, letting her senses guide her until they told her she’d reached her stop. She wandered down the hallway until she came to the door that felt like the one she should open. Inside she found a once warm and welcoming home that had been decimated and reduced to ash – truly the hand of Gozer had touched this place. There was a woman standing by what had minutes earlier been a grand window, but now was just a hole in the wall overlooking the city.

“Are you the Gatekeeper?” said Aubrey.

Chloe turned to face her. “Yes.”

“I am the Key Master.”

A relieved smile came across Chloe’s face. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. This looks like the sign, don’t you think?”

Aubrey looked out the window, where she could see pockets of smoke rising into sky, hear police sirens and screams from all over. “I do.”

“Well, then,” said Chloe, and in seconds she had crossed the room, softly brought a hand to Aubrey’s neck, and tilted her head upwards so she could kiss her. “We should probably get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gatekeeper and the Key Master kiss in the original movie, and I really didn't think I was going to have that in this story because I thought it would require too much explaining in later chapters. But then I found it kinda funny if Aubrey and Chloe make out but never really know about it because nobody is around to see it and nobody's gonna remember it afterwards. Also it made for a nice 'wtf?' chapter cliffhanger so, why not?
> 
> Also, I would again like to state that I really randomly created this John Mayer running gag and I genuinely did not have anything against Mr Mayer whatsoever, but in a really weird coincidence he was a guest on the Harmontown podcast last week... and he was pretty funny and affable! I think he and Beca totally added each other on Facebook.


	11. Chapter 11

Being in handcuffs and stuffed into the back of Police Car with four other people was dramatic enough. But Jesse had to go and make it worse.  
  
“If we don’t do something in the next few hours, Chloe Beale’s apartment is going to kill us all.”  
  
Beca let out a short, exasperated breath, and tried to break down that sentence into something she could deal with.  
  
“Just… I mean… _what?_ ”  
  
Jesse didn’t withdraw his statement. If anything, he doubled down. “It’s actually not even an apartment building at all -  it’s a friggin’ ghost antenna. It was only ever designed and built for the purpose of pulling in and concentrating supernatural turbulence. Employing a doorman and charging wealthy manhattanites rent was just to distract from that fact.”  
  
Beca sat with that for a second. “Okay,” she said. “So Chloe‘s building is a spook magnet. I got a cousin who lives in a downtown walkup that’s right next to a fish factory, but it’s a rent controlled, and that’s just New York real estate, y’know? You gotta take the good with the bad!”  
  
The car hit a pothole in the road and all four of them jerked upwards in their seats, hitting their heads on the roof of the car.  
  
“So the freaky block of flats pulls in ghosts,” said Amy, trying to reach up and rub the bump on her temple, before remembering that her hands were cuffed behind her back. “Isn’t that good? Now we won’t have to rush about all over the city, we’ll just head over to the Beale‘s place, trap the ghosts, and have Chloe cook us a fry-up before we leave!”  
  
Jesse looked at her like she was peeing on his _Star Wars_ Blu Ray. “Do you know how much Psychokinetic Energy we’re talking about and what it could be used for?”  
  
Amy looked to Beca. Beca shrugged in a _‘how the hell should I know?’_ sort of way. It was Benji who ended up answering the question.  
  
“Gozer,” he said gravely. “Gozer is coming.”  
  
“I’m confused, what exactly is a Gozer?” said Amy.  
  
Benji shrugged. “A god, a monster, a behemoth - the old Sumerian texts never go into much detail. But what I do know is that Chloe’s apartment building was built for him. The architect was named Ivo Shandor, I knew I recognised it when I saw it on the blueprints, and then I found it in _Tobin’s Spirit Guide_.”  
  
Beca frowned. “Why is a turn of the century architect listed in your supernatural encyclopaedia?”

  
“Because before he was designing fancy high-rises, Ivo Shandor was a military doctor. But they say what he saw during World War One drove him insane. He was convinced that humans were beyond saving and needed to be destroyed. So I guess he started flicking through the myths and legends section of his local library to try and find himself a Destroyer, because he was apparently the founder of a secret society of Gozer worshippers.  
  
“But you said ‘myths‘,” Amy pointed out. “That’s all Gozer is, right? A story. Like Hercules, or the Bogeyman.”  
  
Benji glanced at Beca, and she knew why. Amy and Jesse had been on call last night when everything went crazy, and Benji had been busy dealing with Aubrey’s nonsensical ramblings. It was Beca who had the front row seat to Gozer’s opening number.  
  
“Chloe was floating,” she said to Amy. “She was _floating_ , and growling, and barking…”  
  
“Ivo Shandor was not screwing around with myths,” said Jesse. “And neither is Gozer. They were trying to bring about the legit end of the world, and if we get thrown in a jail cell, we’re not gonna be able to do anything to stop it!”  
  
The cop car chose that moment to slow to a halt, and when the passenger doors were opened and the Ghostbusters stepped out, they found themselves looking up at a grand, white-bricked building.  
  
“Wow,” said Amy. “Even the prisons in this country are fancy.”  
  
“This isn’t a jailhouse,” said Jesse, as confused as Beca and Benji were. “It’s City Hall.”  
  
“Why exactly are we here?” Beca asked of the officer currently leading them up the short set of steps and into the building.  
  
“All I know is that the Mayor wants to see you immediately,” he said.  
  


* * *

“So this is pretty cool.” asked Amy, looking curiously around the hallways they were being ushered through. “Any of you three been in here before?”  
  
Benji and Jesse gave absentminded shakes of the head, too busy worrying about what exactly the Mayor of New York had to say to them. Beca, however, found herself experiencing a vague flashback.  
  
“Once, I think, on a class trip. Although I remember a gift shop, so maybe it was actually the Museum of Natural History. It may have even been the big Public Library building on Fifth Avenue, now that I think about it. Jesus, I was not paying attention in elementary school.”  
  
“That explains a lot,” said her Dad, who they found standing outside the doors to the Mayor‘s office. He was trying to look mad, but his arms were folded way too tight across his chest, and his foot wouldn’t stop tapping worriedly against the floor.  
  
“Perfect,” said Beca. “You’re here.”  
  
“Yeah,” Amy agreed, matching Beca‘s spiteful tone. “Perfect. Wait, who is this man?”  
  
“Its her Dad,” said Jesse helpfully.  
  
Benji turned to Beca. “Are the Police always going to call your father when I get arrested?”  
  
“Probably,” she replied. “He’s annoying like that. Seriously though, Dad, why are you here? This isn’t college, you can’t use your tenure to talk them into not sending me to jail.”  
  
“For your information, Rebecca, both the Mayor and his deputy are dear friends of mine from the wine club. They trust my judgement and often seek my guidance on matters concerning the city. Not just when they directly involve my daughter.”  
  
As if in response to this ludicrous statement, the doors to the office swung open. A woman stood there; short, blonde, with hair perfectly coiffed to look like a beehive. She looked around, panic-stricken, at each of the four Ghostbusters, until her gaze fell upon Beca’s Dad.  
  
“Oh, Warren,” she sobbed. “It’s terrible in here. Oh, it’s just _awful_. Seriously, don’t tell anyone, but I think the city is about to just crumble apart and die!”  
  
Beca watched in bemusement as her father stepped forward to reach out and take the lady’s hand, caressing it in a soothing manner.  
  
“Gail, everything’s going to be just fine, I’m sure of it. Now let’s get in there and sort all of this out.”  
  
The woman - Gail, apparently - nodded stiffly, wiping away stray tears and fixing any creases in her smart pant-suit. “You’re right. God damnit, you’re so wise. Okay, let’s do this.”  
  
She opened the door fully and beckoned for everyone to follow inside. It was a spacious room, with huge windows and royal blue carpet. There was a set of couches on the left for informal talks, and a bookcase in the corner, but otherwise no more furniture besides the large, historic desk that had two phones sitting on it - one for calls from the President, and one for everybody else.  
  
Currently, everybody was huddled around a large map of the city which was propped up next to the desk, (everybody, in this case, being five older white dudes in suits). They were arguing about blocking bridges and roads when Beca and company entered.  
  
“John, look,” said Gail excitedly. “Warren is here! Didn’t I tell you everything was going to be alright? And you were worried the city was about to die!”  
  
“Warren!” said the man Gail had addressed, and he too strode across the room to embrace Beca’s Dad with more warmth than she had shown him in years. “Thank god. We are in a real fix here, buddy.”  
  
Her Dad turned back to them. “Kids, I’m sure you know the Mayor of New York, John Smith, and his deputy Mayor, Gail Abernathy-McKadden.”  
  
“We’re _not_ kids,” said Beca sharply, stepping forward to offer the Mayor her own hand. “How do you do, Mr Mayor. I’m Beca Mitchell, this is Jessie Swanson, Benji Applebaum and Fat Amy - she calls herself that, it’s an empowerment thing - and we are the Ghostbusters. We know there‘s been an unusual disturbance in your city, but we assure you that we are fully equipped to deal with it.”  
  
The Mayor held her gaze for a second, then let loose a laugh.  
  
“Good lord. Is this what college makes of young women nowadays? You can’t just say ‘Ghostbusters’ as though it’s a real occupation. Real jobs have names like ‘steel worker’ or ‘mailman’. Hell, even ‘YouTuber’ is more legitimate than ‘Ghostbuster’.”  
  
Beca hastily retrieved her outstretched hand and nodded. “And now I get why you’re friends with my father.”  
  
The Mayor shook his head again like she was just too much. “Anyway, Gail, where’s this other guy? Didn’t you say his name was Buster-something? Buster Rhymes, maybe? Or am I making that up? Isn’t that musician?”  
  
“If Buster Rhymes is coming too,” said Amy, “then this apocalypse event just got awesome.”  
  
The door flew open again. “I’m here!” said Bumper, his Trebles jacket half off and his hair all mussed up. “I made it. I’m here to talk to the Mayor. And it’s Bumper, sir. Bumper Allen.”  
  
“Much like ‘Ghostbusters‘, I’m not sure that’s a real name,” said the Mayor. “But why don’t you whipper-snappers tell me why my city is currently going cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs?”  
  
Benji cleared his throat nervously. “Well, I guess it’s best to start at the very beginning. Around 2001, Columbia Records signed a young recording artist named John Mayer - ”  
  
Jesse put a halting hand on his arm. “Oh man, that’s way too far back.”  
  
As Beca buried her face in her hands, Bumper elbowed Jesse and Benji out of the way to stand before the Mayor and his advisors.  
  
“Here’s the deal, these losers are committing straight up _treason_. They’re obsessed with this one building uptown that they‘re planning to blow up. And all this ghost stuff is just a cover. They use hypnosis or maybe some kind of gas that makes people think they’re seeing werewolves and stuff, so when these idiots shown up and perform their lame electronic light show, people actually pay them for it! Money which all funnels back into their primary goal of blowing up some random apartment building on Central Park West. You just have to follow the money, Mr Mayor!!”  
  
His ranting, arm-flailing delivery did him no favours. Beca softly stepped forward again.  
  
“Okay, so what actually happened is this: we’ve been removing paranormal entities from households and business around the city for weeks now, and storing them in our high-tech containment unit.”  
  
“Everything was fine with our systems,” Jesse added, “until our power was shut off by this young gentleman, who, as my colleague Benji alluded to, has a seriously unhealthy devotion to the singer-songwriter John Mayor.”  
  
Bumper clenched his jaw and threw out an accusatory finger at the Ghostbusters. “Don’t listen to them, they’re terrorists!”  
  
The Mayor turned to Beca. “Is this true?”  
  
Beca nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so. I recommend this man be prohibited from getting within 25 feet of John Mayer, for Mr Mayer’s own safety.”  
  
Bumper glared. “You know, you’re just lucky that I’m above hitting a girl _except that I’m not_!”  
  
He lunged at Beca, who was totally ready for him and went low to try and take him down, MMA-style. Jesse, Benji, and the Mayor’s staff rushed forward to break them apart and drag them to opposite sides of the room. (Amy made it look like she was helping, but only so she could get in two or three hard kicks to Bumper‘s shins.)  
  
“For god’s sake,” said the Mayor, sitting himself down on the edge of his desk in exasperation. “I have a city tearing itself apart, kids barely over the legal drinking age going at it in my office, and I’m honestly not even sure I know who John Mayer is. Warren, help me out here.”  
  
“My daughter is many things,” said Dr Mitchell, “but she’s not a terrorist.”  
  
“Love you too, Dad,” Beca deadpanned.  
  
“But I can’t in good conscience endorse this whole ‘ghost’ business.”  
  
“Of course you can‘t,” Beca bitterly replied. “Your honor, please let the record show that my father considers anything I do with my life that wasn’t his idea to be a mistake.”  
  
Dr Mitchell gave an offended huff. “Your honor, let the record show that my daughter has never seized any of the countless opportunities she was afforded.” (The Mayor looked between them in confusion. “Nobody is keeping a record here, guys.”) “I mean, for god’s sake Bec I got you a free ride to one of the top universities in the world and you couldn’t even stick with that. How are we to trust in this ghost busting business if you never see anything through to the end?”  
  
“Because this is the very first thing I’ve ever chosen for myself and not had forced upon by you!” Beca fired back. “I gritted my teeth through as much soccer practice and violin lessons and college courses as I could take, but I never wanted any of those things! We built this company out of nothing. We help people. And today, we happen to be the only four losers in the whole city that can save it from sinking down into the tenth level of hell. Would it honestly kill you have the tiniest bit of faith in my own decisions? Even at the end of the world?”  
  
Dr Mitchell had fire in his eyes and indignation on his face, but he couldn’t muster a response. He seemed unable to hold Beca’s gaze as the Mayor let out a very bored sigh.  
  
“See, this is what happens when you don’t spank your children.”  
  
Gail nodded. “It just teaches respect, is what it does, John.”  
  
“Exactly! Gail, tell them what age were you spanked up until.”  
  
“My twenty fourth birthday, and not a day before,” she proudly replied.  
  
“With respect, Mr Mayor,” said Jesse, getting back on topic, “we don’t need Dr Mitchell’s endorsement anymore. The time for scepticism is over. New York City is in the middle of a supernatural cataclysm.”  
  
Bumper scoffed. “Gimmie a break. I told you, your honor, it’s all a trick with mirrors or something.”  
  
The Mayor nodded thoughtfully. “Well, normally I’d be inclined to agree with you, but I‘ve been getting some really weird reports today. Ghost dogs chasing frisbees in the park, long dead politicians holding press conferences, and ” - he turned to Gail again - “what was it again that’s happening at the 99th Precinct out in Brooklyn?”  
  
“Oh,“ she said, quickly pulling up the report on her phone. “The walls were bleeding.”  
  
The Mayor turned back to Bumper. “Bleeding walls! Explain that one, little mister.”  
  
Benji cleared his throat awkwardly, opened his mouth to make his appeal, but found Amy shouldering him out of the way.  
  
“Okay fine! If you want my thoughts on the situation, I‘ll give them to you. Look, Mr Mayor, I may not be an US citizen - though I am 100% here legally, and I have paperwork to back that up - but I think me and you are a lot alike.”  
  
The Mayor gave her a dubious glance. “That’s perhaps a whole other debate…”  
  
“Whatever,” Amy continued. “The point is, I’ve only been a Ghostbuster for a few days, and before that I wouldn‘t have believed any of this either. I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe in aliens, or Bigfoot, or the solar system.”  
  
“Maybe get to the point sometime soon, buddy,” Beca suggested.  
  
“But let me tell you something: ghosts are real. Since I’ve joined this company I have seen things that, to be blunt, will make you shit your pants. And that’s not a metaphor. I’ve been suffering from incontinence since the day I was hired. Granted, I’m waiting on the results of a blood test in relation to this, but I’m pretty certain the ghosts are the main culprit.”  
   
In the seconds after that statement hung in the air, Jesse turned to Beca. “We‘re boned,” he said.  
  
One of the Mayor’s advisors, a young, gangly gentlemen, answered his ringing cellphone, went very pale, and then turned to his boss.  
  
“Um, sir? The situation at 55 Central Park West is… escalating.”  
  
“Escalating how?”  
  
“Well, there, uh, appear to be regular earthquakes happening in the immediate vicinity, and very strange clouds that seem to be forming right above the building.”  
  
“Fantastic,” said the Mayor, throwing his hands into the air and pacing around his desk. “Just excellent! I tell ya, this was not what I signed up for. This was supposed to be a sweet gig.” He pointed at Gail. “You said I would be president in five years time!”  
  
Gail grabbed him the lapels and shook him. “You will be president, John, I still believe that!”  
  
Beca turned sharply to the advisor. “They evacuated the building, though, right? Got everybody out?”  
  
He shook his head. “The police say there’s two people up on the roof that won’t come down.”  
  
Jesse caught Beca’s gaze. “Chloe and Aubrey.”  
  
Beca stormed towards the Mayor. “Okay, you are officially out of options, dude. Something very old and very evil is about to drop into this world, and if you don’t let us find a way to stop it, shit is about to get biblical in New York City.”  
  
The Mayor threw out his arms in exasperation. “What does that even mean?”  
  
Jesse rushed forward too. “Think Old Testament style chaos. Real wrath of God type stuff. Fire and brimstone, rivers and seas boiling.”  
  
Benji came over with a decorative bible he’d picked up from the Mayor’s bookcase. “Earthquakes, volcanoes,” he said, flipping through the pages, “plagues, famine, pretty sure there’s human sacrifices in here somewhere…”  
  
“Eternal darkness,” Amy joined in, “corpses climbing out of their graves…”  
  
“No more Marvel movies,” Beca added, “demigods walking the earth, with their own reality shows on E! - mass hysteria!”  
  
The Mayor glared at each of the four Ghostbusters. “The only hysteria around here is coming from the four of you! Now you‘ll lower your voice when you talk to me or I‘ll bend each and every one of you over my knee and give you a good hiding, end-of-the-world or no end-of-the-world.”  
  
“She‘s telling the truth,” said a quiet voice from the back of the room, and though Beca knew who it belonged to, she still turned around to stare at her Dad in disbelief. He looked up at her with a weird mix of both wonderment and sadness. “I’ve never seen you this passionate about anything. Ever. This is all real, isn’t it? It‘s the end of the world?”  
  
“Yeah,” she said. “It is.”  
  
He looked away, nodding. And after a thinking about it for a second, he looked to the Mayor. “If she says she can stop it, I trust her.”  
  
A stunned silence followed, broken only by Bumper’s derisive snort. “Her Dad says we should believe her - shocker! No offence, but this touchy, feely fluff won’t stand up in court once they set off their big super huge bomb thingy.”  
  
The Mayor did not respond. He was looking at Dr Mitchell very intently, before his eyes flicked over to Beca.  
  
“What if you’re wrong?”  
  
Beca pondered that for a second. “Well, aside from the bigger stuff, it means a girl pretended to be possessed to get out of going to dinner with me. So that’s gonna take some time to process. But mostly, if we’re wrong than nothing happens. The sun comes up tomorrow just like normal, and you can send us to prison.”  
  
Bumper raised a hand. “I second that proposal.”  
  
“But if we’re right,” Beca said, cocking her head to side thoughtfully, reeling the Mayor in, “and we can stop this thing, then you’ll be the Mayor who held back Armageddon. And I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a pretty good campaign slogan for 2020.”  
  
A gasp escaped Gail. “I can see the bumper stickers!” she whispered.  
  
The Mayor’s cold, contemplative gaze aimed directly at Beca gradually became the smallest of smiles. Bumper saw this, cleared his throat and raised his hand.  
  
“So just to be clear, you‘re not going to lock them all up?”  
  
“No,” the Mayor replied.  
  
Bumper shrugged. “Well, it was worth a shot. I’m out of here, I got an A Capella Championship to win in like two hours, so you losers have fun with your little séance or exorcism or whatever it is you do. Peace out!”  
  
And with that, he was gone. The Mayor frowned at the door he’d swaggered out of.  
  
“What on earth is ‘A Capella’?”  
  
“Never mind,” said Beca. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna need a few things from you.”  
  


* * *

Every government official with a badge and a uniform descended on City Hall. Jesse caught a cab to the Firehouse, returning with an Ecto-1 full of proton packs, Beca and Benji helped officers decide which city blocks to evacuate and where to set up their perimeter, while Amy personally interviewed the members of the National Guard that had been drafted in by the Mayor, insisting they perform a few push-ups in front of her to ensure they were in fighting shape.  
  
Within an hour, they were ready to roll. As she exited City Hall in her Ghostbusters uniform, Beca found two cop cars and a truck load of soldiers waiting to escort them to the apartment building from hell.  
  
“I hope you’re up to this,” came her Dad’s voice, as he came down the steps of City Hall. “Because some people are seriously questioning the Mayor’s decision on this one.”  
  
Beca smirked. “Kinda makes me miss the days when it was only your expectations I had to live up to.”  
  
“My expectations never included anything like this,” he said, looking over to the Ecto, where Benji was checking the instruments on the roof while Jesse secured all their equipment in the back. Beca watched him try and make sense of it all. “I still don‘t really believe what‘s happening…”  
  
Beca shrugged. “We don’t have time to convince you. The only people who have a shot at stopping all this is us.”  
  
“I know,” he said. “That’s the only part of it I do believe. You look… sure. Of all this. Of yourself. It’s a good look for you.”  
  
“Thanks. But there’s a lot more going on here. People that I was supposed to protect are messed up in this. That girl I told you about, remember?”  
  
“Chloe,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You really like her, huh?”  
  
“The point,” said Beca, neatly sidestepping his question, “is that I promised her we’d fix things before they ever got this far. I gotta make this right while there’s still time.”  
  
“I hope you do,“ he said. “I hope to meet her.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Beca. “Me too.” And while the idea of Chloe and her Dad in the same room freaked her out, so did the idea that one of them might not get the chance. Just picturing it filled her blood with focus and urgency. She headed towards the cars, stopping just next to the Ecto-1 to tell her Dad: “Thanks. For your help back there. Without you, I’m not sure they’d ever believe we weren’t crazy.”  
  
“Oh, they still think you’re crazy,” said Dr Mitchell. “I just convinced them you weren’t dangerous.”  
  
“Yeah, well…” Beca opened the car door and smirked. “Guess again.”  
  
As soon as she was in the passenger seat next to him, Jesse started the engine.  
  
“We good to go?” asked Beca.  
  
Jesse and Benji nodded sternly and silently, focused on the task at hand. Only Amy spoke, meeting Beca’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and saying, “Let’s run some red lights."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> \- This chapter took so long to write because I kept trying to do a version of the jail cell scene from the original Ghostbusters movie, and could never get it to work without looking like I had just transcribed the dialogue word for word and then written "said Beca" instead of "said Venkman". My rule of thumb for this whole story is, if I can't find the Beca version of a classic GB line, throw it out and write something else. It just took me too long to remember my own rule.  
> \- Beca's Dad doesn't have a canon first name??? Wikipedia gives it as 'Benjamin' without any source, and IMDB just reads 'Dr Mitchell'. But I'm pretty sure I've read at least four other fics that refer to him as 'Warren', so I guess that's what I'm going with.  
> \- If you want to get *really* nerdy, the "I just convinced them you're not dangerous"/"Yeah, well, guess again." line is from a deleted scene from the shooting script for Ghostbusters 2, which I don't think they ever actually shot because a lot of the GB2 was re-written whilst they were already filming. But I always thought it was a really cool line and really enjoyed the idea of Beca saying it.


	12. Chapter 12

The police escort left them pretty much as soon as they arrived at Chloe’s building. The officers made a show of asking if they were okay, and promising to be only a radio call away, but the implication was clear: the Ghostbusters were on their own now.  
  
It was weird, being right in the middle of the city but with nobody else around for miles. Beca glanced down the street as Jesse and the others geared up. If she squinted she could see crowds gathered around the police perimeter a few blocks away, but other than that they were the only four people around for miles. Except, of course, Chloe and Aubrey, somewhere up there, waiting for Gozer.  
  
“Well,” said Jesse, once they were all wearing their packs and standing at the foot of the building. “This is it. Point of no return.”  
  
Beca and Benji stared dead ahead, determined. Amy raised her hand.  
  
“I just realised, my shift technically ended hours ago. Will this all be paid as overtime?”  
  
Jesse gave her a long look. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”  
  
The building’s lobby was deserted, and there was a tense silence as they all clambered inside the elevator, just boots on the fancy carpet and the clunky noise of their proton packs moving around. Everybody watched the lights above the doors, steadily moving higher and higher.  
  
Amy shrugged. “I’m fairly confident, personally,” she announced. The others looked at her in surprise. “We’ve got the tools, we’ve got the talent - what’s there to worry about?”  
  
“A beast from beyond this earthly plane,” said Benji, “but honestly, I appreciate your optimism.”  
  
Jesse waited a beat, then with a small grin, added, “For the record, this isn’t the first time Beca went on a date and we all nearly died as a result.”  
  
Beca scoffed. “That is an exaggeration at best.”  
  
“Are you talking about the pasta incident?” Benji asked.  
  
“I am talking about the pasta incident,” Jesse confirmed, then turned to Amy. “We threw a party once and Beca ended up inviting this girl to stay the night…”  
  
“On the couch!” Beca cut in defensively. “She lived far away, and I didn’t want her to drive home drunk.”  
  
Jesse was undeterred. “Because she was drunk. So drunk in fact that she woke up around 3am, decided to start boiling some pasta, then changed her mind and fell back asleep while the stove was still on.”  
  
“I don’t know, I kinda get it,” said Amy, attempting to be diplomatic while Benji and Jesse snickered and Beca sulked. “We’ve all late night cravings for linguini.”  
  
“What was that girl’s name again?” asked Jesse.  
  
“Katie,” said Beca, then allowed herself a smile at the memory. “I had a real thing for dyed hair that year, and hers was bright pink. And she played the drums.”  
  
Amy gave her a knowing look. “Drummers.”   
  
“Totes,” Beca agreed.  
  
The elevator _ding_ ed. The doors opened. Nobody moved.  
  
“Highly unsafe equipment?” said Beca.  
  
Benji glanced at her proton pack. “Uhh, check?”  
  
“Complete absence of a plan?”  
  
Jesse sighed. “Check.”  
  
“More balls than brains?”  
  
Amy cracked her knuckles. “Check.”  
  
“Awesome. Let’s do this.”  
  
There was barely anything left of Chloe’s apartment. It was just ash and cinders and slime. There was, however, an old, steel staircase that Beca hadn’t noticed before. They climbed it, and found themselves on the roof of the building.   
  
The first thing they noticed was that it was dark. The very unnatural-looking cloud that had been forming around the building had grown so big it was causing an eclipse. From this high up Beca could see emergency lighting coming on all over the city.  
  
“This isn’t on the city’s blueprints,” said Jesse, drawing her attention to the rest of the rooftop. A set of black marble steps led up to a blindingly bright white structure - like a pyramid made out of glass.   
  
“Another world is starting to poke through ours,” Benji guessed. “This is the gateway.”  
  
Weirdly, Beca found their surroundings vaguely familiar. Then she remembered why. “It’s Chloe’s vision. It’s what she saw in the fridge that day.”  
  
“There is no Chloe,” said a voice near the top of the steps. From out of the shadows, still in her flimsy sunset-coloured dress, crept their client. “Only Zuul.”  
  
Aubrey trailed behind Chloe. Her hair was mussed up and her clothes weirdly creased, but she waved happily at the sight of the Ghostbusters. Chloe/Zuul regarded them with a much less friendly expression, which Beca returned in kind.  
  
“You are in big trouble, Little Miss Zuul,” she said. “I don’t know what kind of local government there is where you come from, but in this town you need permits before you renovate on this scale.”  
  
“This building is Gozer’s,” Chloe replied calmly. “This world is Gozer’s.”  
  
“You know we can’t let that happen,” Jesse informed her.  
  
Chloe shrugged. “It’s too late. The connection is made. The gate is open. The Traveller will come.”  
  
“Connection?” asked Jesse. “What connection?”  
  
Aubrey helpfully spoke up. “For Gozer to be able to enter a new world, firstly his Gatekeeper and his Key Master must join with one another.”  
  
Beca frowned. “Join? What does that even mean?“  
  
Benji, however, seemed one step ahead of her. “I was afraid of this,“ he mumbled awkwardly.  
  
Beca stared at him, at a loss, until she noticed the shock blanket given to Aubrey by the Feds, now laid out on the floor at the top of the stairs. Then she re-noticed Aubrey’s unkempt state, and Chloe’s slightly smeared lipstick. “ _Oh my god!_ Ew. Aren’t you guys practically sisters?” She turned to her colleagues. “Okay, team pact, this never leaves this rooftop.”  
  
The other Ghostbusters nodded quickly but before anyone could verbally agree, strange sound filled the air. Somewhere between beautiful harp strings and the painful ringing in ears after a loud explosion, it accompanied the doors on the front of the pyramid drawing themselves open.   
  
And then there was a woman standing at the top of the steps. She was gorgeous, in a way. She didn’t seem to be wearing any clothes, but her body was smooth and featureless. Her hair was short and dark, and her pupils were a deep shade of red. She approached both of her minions and affectionately stroked their heads. Chloe bowed in reverence, Aubrey looked excited enough to pee her pants.  
  
“It’s Gozer,” Benji realised.  
  
“I thought Gozer was a man?” Amy replied.  
  
Jesse shrugged. “I think it’s whatever it wants to be.”  
  
“Well, regardless,” said Beca, “let’s switch to female pronouns. She’s trying to end the world, but that’s no reason to be dicks.”  
  
Gozer glanced around at the sound of voices, her eyes finally falling upon the four humans at the foot of the stairs. She stared at them, head titling curiously. Amy glared back.  
  
“Bitch, who are you eyeballing?”  
  
She was already rolling up her sleeves and striding forwards with ill intent when the others held her back.  
  
“Maybe not the best idea,” said Jesse.  
  
“Although,” Benji mused, “maybe there is a chance we can end this without a fight? Should we actually try to talk to her?”   
  
Beca rolled her eyes. “Because that went so well with Gertrude?”  
  
“It was going fine until I opened my big mouth,” said Jesse thoughtfully.   
  
And then both Jesse and Benji turned to look at Beca, expectantly. She took a second to register that they were requesting she try and talk down an otherworldly deity intent on invading and burning the world, and then she sighed. Because shitty though it may be, it was a fact that if any of the four were going to attempt this, she was by far the best option.  
  
She climbed the first few steps so she was a respectable distance from Gozer.  
  
“Hi,” she said brightly. “Welcome to Earth. I’m Beca Mitchell, I’m part of the Ghostbusters, along with the fine gentleman and fellow lady down there behind me, and I guess we’re sort of representing the human race today. So… anything we can help you with?”  
  
Gozer’s look was not curious anymore. The second Beca had addressed her directly, her face had gone very still. She looked at Beca for a very long moment, then spoke in what was both a rasping whisper and yet a booming echo of a voice.  
  
“You think you can talk to me?”  
  
Beca measured her response. “I don’t mean any offence.”  
  
“I talk with gods,” said Gozer. “I talk with monarchs, and eternals, and divine beings. What makes you think you can talk to me?”  
  
Again, Beca paused. She searched for the right words, ones that would stand her ground but not provoke retaliation. And in the seconds she took to search for those words, Jesse called out instead:  
  
“She’s got a thing for brunettes!”  
  
Beca’s eyes went wide, and she swirled around to find Jesse with his hand clamped over the big mouth he promised not to use. Gozer spoke before Beca could express all the ways she intended to choke Jesse.   
  
“Is this true, Beca Mitchell? You have a ‘thing’ for brunettes?”  
  
With an ageless being of destruction standing in front of you, it’s hard to imagine anything else drawing away your gaze. And yet Beca’s eyes flicked over to what was now Zuul, but still looked like Chloe. She was standing behind Gozer, covered mostly in the shadows, but a wind blew across the rooftop and ran through her hair.  
  
“Actually,” she said, turning back to Gozer, “these days it’s mostly just redheads.”  
  
Zuul blinked a few times, looking very confused and as though something deep down inside that human body had woken up. Gozer, on the other hand, looked bored of this whole interaction.  
  
“You are not a god,” she clarified. “Nor divine in any way, and do not care for my hair color.”  
  
Beca reviewed all that in her head, then nodded. “Correct, ma’am.”  
  
Gozer nodded too. “Then kindly die.”  
  
She was raising her arms before Beca could react. A shockwave of blue energy burst forth, and Beca was flung backwards, crashing into her fellow Ghostbusters and sending all four of them careening towards the edge of the rooftop.  
  
Jesse’s foot got caught on a piece of broken brick, stopping them just enough for Amy to grab hold of something with one hand, and Benji with the other, thus allowing Benji to grab Beca by the collar of her jumpsuit. And this is how Beca found her upper body dangling over a skyscraper on Central Park West, gazing open-mouthed at the long, long way down.  
  
Everybody helped heave her up, then paused for a moment to regain their bearings.  
  
“What do you think pissed her off?” asked a breathless Beca.  
  
“The god thing, probably,” said a very pale and sweaty Benji. “She felt you to be unworthy.”  
  
“Nah,” said Amy. “You dissed her hairstyle. If she really can change bodies at whim, that cropped flat-top might be brand new and she might be very self-conscious about it.”  
  
“Whatever,” said Jesse, who was the first to his feet and had already drawn his proton thrower. “This ends now.”  
  
Gozer scowled as she watched them re-group, draw their weapons, and advance. Zuul was leaning against the glass structure, looking very tired all of a sudden. Aubrey meanwhile had the biggest grin on her face, and could be heard muttering _“Burn them, burn them, burn them, burn them.”_  
  
“Gozer the Gozerian,” Jesse called out, once everyone was in formation. “I give you one chance to return to your place of origin or to the nearest convenient parallel dimension. Failure to do so will result in us putting our foot up your Sumerian asshole.”  
  
Beca grinned, impressed with his fortitude under the circumstances. But Gozer’s expression only grew more sour. She bared her teeth, and the growl that escaped her thundered in all of their ears, and may have even rustled the trees lining the park down below.  
  
“I think that’s her answer,” said Amy.  
  
“Awesome,” said Beca. “Let’s toast the prehistoric bitch.”  
  
Four proton streams burst out of their throwers and shot towards Gozer, but they hit the glass structure behind her. In an unexpected feat of agility, she had leapt into the air and soared over them, twisting in mid-flight to land directly on the edge of the rooftop, where seconds earlier the Ghostbusters had nearly fell to their deaths.  
  
She wasn’t even looking at them, which should have been a red flag. She seemed more interested in the streets down below, or the lights of police cars and ambulances in the distance.  
  
“How the hell…” Beca wondered.  
  
“I thought you said she was thousands of years old?” Amy said to Benji. “I’m 27 and it takes me an hour to get out of bed every morning.”  
  
“No more games,” said Gozer, still without turning to face them. “Let’s all show ourselves, as we are to be in this.”  
  
Beca tried to work that out in her head, but ended up saying, “Come again?”  
  
Gozer didn’t answer, but the clouds above her did. They started to rumble with the beginnings of thunder, and then two bolts of lighting shot out of them. To Beca’s horror, they struck Chloe and Aubrey.  
  
“Chloe!” she yelled, trying to rush forward but being held back by Jesse and Amy. For good reason, too, because everything at the top of the staircase was obscured by the blinding blur of the lighting, which frazzled for a good seven or eight seconds before disappearing just as fast.   
  
Beca had expected to see the charred remains of two Barden Bellas - not glowing red eyes from a pair of grotesque, four-legged creatures just like the one that had been spotted hiding in the Beale‘s fridge.  
  
“Chloe…” she said again, quieter this time. The creature that sat where Chloe had stood looked at her without recognition.  
  
“There is no Chloe,” said Gozer, without even bothering to turn and look what had become of her most devoted follower. “There is only Zu--”  
  
Beca shot a proton stream into her back before the end of that sentence. The beam rendered Gozer completely rigid, sparks dancing around the point where the proton energy was lighting up her spine.   
  
And then she was gone. Completely disappeared.  
  
Nobody moved right away. Amy glanced cautiously at the others. “Well, that was easy…”  
  
Beca, too, was looking down at her thrower in surprise. “Did I just…?”  
  
“You neutranized her!” said Jesse, rushing forward to examine the spot where Gozer had been standing. Then he turned back to them with a giant grin on his face, before rushing toward Beca and grasping her by the shoulders. “A complete particle reversal. Beca, you blasted her into nothingness!”  
  
Beca copied his infectious smile while Amy threw her fist into the air in victory. It was only when they all turned to look at Benji that they realised something was up. He wasn’t smiling or celebrating. He had his PKE metre out, and was looking at the reading with a grim expression.  
  
“Guys…” was all he managed to say, before the floor beneath them began to quake.  
  
“Whoa,” said Beca, reaching out to Jesse to try and steady herself and finding his balance just as compromised.  
  
The bricks and stones from all the floors below them started to creak and groan. Chunks of the rooftop’s edge came loose and plummeted to smash into the pavement below. The building itself was swaying like it was tipsy, and then a voice from within the glass pyramid was speaking to them.  
  
 _“Gozer the Gozerian, Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, the Traveller has come. Choose and perish.”_  
  
Jesse steadied himself long enough to reach the foot of the steps.  
  
“Wait,” he cried over the noise of a midtown skyscraper falling to pieces. “Slow down, we don’t understand!”  
  
 _“Choose,”_ the voice repeated. _“Choose the form of the destructor!”_  
  
Jesse turned to Benji for clarification, but he merely shrugged with a panicked expression. Beca, though, felt something click into place.  
  
“Whatever it wants to be,” she muttered to herself, then grabbed Jesse by the arm. “Whatever it wants to be - that’s what you said, right? Gozer can shift and mould into whatever shape it feels like?”  
  
“Like play-doh!” Amy shouted helpfully.  
  
“Exactly,” said Beca. “Well, maybe not _exactly_ exactly, but close enough. What I mean is: I think it wants us to choose!”  
  
“We’re not gonna choose the way a monster looks before it steps on us,” Benji yelled up the stairs.  
  
 _“If a choice is not made it will be taken,”_ the voice replied.  
  
“Ugh, saw that coming,” said Beca. “I think it’s gonna look in our heads and take the form of whatever we‘re thinking. So, like, if we picture of David Guetta, David Guetta will appear and destroy us. So empty your heads! Think of nothing, and nothing but nothing!”  
  
She clutched her hands to her eyes, to avoid anything in her line of sight inspiring a thought. If her eyes were open though, she would have seen everyone else’s attempts to make their minds a void: Amy’s eyes took on a glazed look, Benji’s face became a picture of zen and calmness, and Jesse looked very, very afraid.  
  
 _“The choice is made,”_ the voice announced.  
  
Beca’s eyes snapped open. “Bullshit! We didn’t choose anything!” She turned to Amy. “Did you think of anything?”  
  
Amy vehemently shook her head. “I zoned out like I was on the phone with an elderly relative.”  
  
Beca looked at Benji. “My head was totally empty and at peace,” he insisted.  
  
Beca turned back to the pyramid. “And I sure as hell didn’t choose anything.”  
  
The building stopped shaking. The pyramid voice went quiet. And every human left on that rooftop realised there was only one of them who hadn’t spoken. Slowly, one by one, the other Ghostbusters turned to look at Jesse.  
  
He had backed away from them, a look of horrible guilt on his face.  
  
“I…” he stuttered. “I couldn’t help it. It just… popped in there.”  
  
Beca took several steps towards Jesse until she was all up in his personal space, nose to nose. Her eyes were wide, her fists were clenched, _“What?”_ she asked. “What just ‘ _popped_ ’ in there, Swanson?”  
  
Jesse’s lip trembled. And then, in the distance, a huge, echoing _boom_ answered for him.  
  
“No,” cried Jesse, pushing past them to run off to the side of the rooftop. “It can’t be!”  
  
The others ran too, because the first boom had been followed by a second, and then a third, until it became clear they were hearing the steady, earth-shaking sound of footsteps.  
  
“Jesse,” said Beca in the calmest voice she could manage. “What the hell have you done?”  
  
He still couldn’t answer, but eventually he didn’t have to. They all glimpsed it moving through the buildings in the distance, coming towards them. Beca saw flashes of white and blue, and a little ribbon dangling down from a fancy hat. And then she remembered just days earlier reprimanding Jesse about how much of the Ghostbusters’ monthly budget was being spent on sweets. To coincide with the memory, a hundred foot tall, cartoon sailor appeared in Columbus Circle at the edge of Central Park West.  
  
They all turned to gawk at Jesse, who went very still, before announcing: “Yeah, so… it’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”


	13. Chapter 13

Mr Stay Puft, the colourful cartoon sailor mascot of the Stay Puft Marshmallows Corporation, had come to life. He was a hundred feet tall, possessed by the spirit of a demon intent on burning the world, and coming straight for the Ghostbusters.  
  
“I tried to think of the most harmless thing,” Jesse explained, as they all stood, paralysed with disbelief, high atop Chloe’s apartment building. “I thought to myself: you can’t think of nothing. That’s impossible. So the logical choice was to think of something that could never, ever possibly destroy us. And then… I just thought of him.”  
  
Beca observed the gigantic piece of confection coming to kill her, stomping on parked cars and kicking over trees while wearing a child-friendly, focus-group-tested smile on his face.  
  
“Hate to go all Spock on you, Jess,” she said, “but your logic isn’t very sound in this case.”  
  
“We used to roast Stay Puft Marshmallows,” he said, turning to her with a look of distraught nostalgia. “Freshman year, in the old empty swimming pool. Remember?”  
  
Since they were all about to die anyway, she figured compassion was probably the best way forward, and patted him softly on the arm. “I remember, buddy.” Then, she turned subtly to her other former classmate. “Jesse has retreated to a childlike state here, Benji, so any bright ideas are gonna have to come from you.”  
  
“Sorry Beca. I’m afraid I’m terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought,” Benji replied, an emotionless look on his face as he watched the marshmallow man draw near.  
  
“Cool,” Beca nodded. “How about you Amy, you got anything? No bad ideas.”  
  
Amy’s face scrunched up as she scrutinized Gozer’s new form. “If it was any other type of desert, I’d be suggesting we try eating him, but I think I’m actually allergic to marshmallow.”  
  
“And we wouldn’t want you to get sick,” said Beca, “obviously. So I guess there‘s nothing else left to do but die. Wait, what’s he doing?”  
  
Mr Stay Puft had reached them, stopping just outside the super old Lutheran church which stood next to the apartment building, whereupon he raised his left foot. The cartoon smile had vanished from his face; the malicious grin looking up at them now was all Gozer.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” said Beca.  
  
Stay Puft moved his foot an inch closer.  
  
“I think he’s gonna dare,” said Amy.  
  
With a wink of his big black eyes, he stepped right through the roof of the church and crushed it to bits.  
  
“Motherf--” Beca fumed. “I’m not even religious but that’s just straight up disrespectful.”  
  
“Okay, screw this,” said Jesse, suddenly snapping out of his trance and aiming his proton thrower at the big white sailor. “Roast him!”  
  
He let loose and the others quickly followed his lead. A grimace found its way onto Mr Stay Puft’s face, and he howled into the night as four streaks from the rooftop burned into his midsection. His marshmallow form quickly caught flame.  
  
“We’ve got him!” Amy yelled in delight. “I can’t believe it, we’ve actually…” Stay Puft quickly marched the rest of the distance to Chloe’s building and flung himself around it, hugging it to his burning chest. The flames began spreading up towards them. “…never mind.”  
  
“Get down!” Benji yelled.  
  
A sheet of fire flew up the building, and they were forced to jump away from the rooftop’s edge and seek cover behind a chunk of concrete that had snapped away from the building during the earlier earthquake.  
  
“Well, we had a good run,” Jesse sighed, resigned to their fate. “We helped some folks and made some money. We even got to meet John Mayer!”  
  
Beca shook her head. “Maybe we’ve been thinking about this all wrong. Mr Stay Puft is a sailor and he’s in New York, right? If we just get him laid, maybe we won’t have any trouble?”  
  
Amy shrugged. “I’ll take that bullet.”  
  
They could hear crunching noises getting louder by the second. Gozer/Stay Puft was obviously scaling the building. Any second now, he’d reach the top, smush them beneath his foot like he had done the church, and then end the world. Beca wondered what her Dad would say, about whatever important thing she was obviously missing that was going to cost everyone their lives. And then she found herself peeking over the concrete block, to see the two four-legged creatures that were once Aubrey and Chloe.   
  
Aubrey’s terror-dog was at the rooftop edge, looking over at her approaching master and hopping up and down with delight. If she had a tail, it would be wagging. Zuul, meanwhile, was still at the top of the staircase in front of the glass structure. The creature’s eyes were blinking. It looked confused. Conflicted, even. It glanced over and caught Beca’s gaze.  
  
“I have a radical idea,” came Benji’s voice, regaining Beca’s attention.  
  
“The radical the better!” she said eagerly.  
  
Benji hesitated. “We cross the streams.”  
  
“Are you nuts?“ cried Beca. (Beside her, Jesse gasped in surprise. “Cross the streams!” he whispered.) “That’s not a way out; you said it would kill us all instantly.”  
  
Amy raised a hand. “I’m gonna side with Beca pretty early on in the debate here.”  
  
“It’s not 100% confirmed that we’d die,” Benji stressed. “We just probably almost certainly would.”  
  
“Not exactly selling it to me!” Beca yelled.  
  
Benji wiped his brow, trying for once in his life to be able to communicate the things in his head to other humans. “Look, crossing the streams causes a counter reaction. All that energy we’re shooting out turns around and goes in the other direction. But! If we aim the combined streams at the glass pyramid thing-y, there’s a very, very, ridiculously slim chance that we’d cause a reversal of the particle flow back through the gate. Gozer would get sucked out the way he came through, and it’s entirely possible we’d survive the process of that.”  
  
Beca narrowed her gaze. “How entirely possible?”   
  
Benji paused, then raised his left hand and gave a very un-confident, so-so hand gesture.  
  
Beca groaned and buried her face in her hands. The sound of Stay Puft climbing the building like a jungle-gym was getting louder. He’d be here any second. When Beca opened her eyes, she found everybody else looking pretty much willing, but waiting on her for the final say. And then she looked over at Zuul again.   
  
The creature was staring at her now, looking more and more distressed. The mouth of the thing opened, an anguished howl escaped it, and Beca had the weirdest feeling that it didn’t come from Zuul.  
  
She turned back to the others. “Fine, let’s do the suicide plan. It’s been that sort of day, I guess.”  
  
They emerged from their cover just in time to see a massive burning marshmallow hand come into view and grip the edge of the rooftop.  
  
“Quickly!” Benji yelled. “He’s almost here.”  
  
They rushed to the foot of the stairs to stand before the pyramid structure. Beca aimed her proton thrower at the glass gateway, stopping just long enough to glance at the three idiots standing either side of her, whom she might never see again. She smiled. “I love you, awesome nerds.”   
  
Then she fired. Her proton stream flew up the steps and struck the pyramid gates. It fizzled and sparked, but otherwise had little effect.  
  
Jesse took a deep breath. “See you on the side, guys,” he said, then sent his proton stream up towards the glass structure too. And then he carefully moved his fire to the left, until it crossed and merged with Beca’s stream. There was an instant kickback that they both had to dig their heels in to protect against. The double stream took on an intense, neon glow as it cut into the pyramid gates.  
  
Beca glanced over her shoulder. Stay Puft had reared his ugly, half melted face.  
  
“Benji, Amy - now!”  
  
There was no time for caution. Benji and Amy opened up their fire and quickly crossed them over to Beca and Jesse‘s. The force of all four proton streams coming together to fire as one was bone-shaking. Beca felt all the hairs on her body stand up. Her knuckles went white as they gripped her thrower. The mega-proton stream turned bright green. Cracks started breaking out across the glass pyramid. Stay Puft roared in fury.   
  
And then there was an explosion.  
  
Later, Beca would vaguely recall being thrown off her feet, and feeling the heat from the fire. She had blurry images of glass bursting outward before being sucked back in the opposite direction. But the next solid thing Beca really remembered was a ringing in her ears, cold concrete pressing against her face, and the overpowering smell of s’mores.  
  
She shakily drew herself up to her knees and looked around. Gozer’s pyramid was half destroyed, and what remained seemed to have been turned to rock and stone, like the after-effects of a volcano eruption. Stay Puft was gone too, but giant gloops of his marshmallow form covered just about every inch of the rooftop.  
  
“Guys?” came a voice from a few feet away. Beca saw a figure drenched head to toe in fluffy marshmallow stuff stagger towards her, and she realised it was Jesse. “Is anybody else alive?”  
  
“Hey,” she greeted from the floor, waving slightly when his gaze found her.  
  
“Becs! You made it. What about the others? Benji! Amy!”  
  
Benji stumbled out from under a rock, similarly unrecognisable due to the light and sugary substance he was coated with. “I had an out-of-body experience,” he calmly announced.  
  
“Oh god,” came Amy’s voice, and she too appeared, though in much more of a panic than the others. She was holding her hands out to the sides, like the marshmallow all over her was poisonous. “I’m allergic!” she reminded them. “I’m allergic, I’m allergic, I’m… oh no wait. It’s walnuts that I’m allergic to! Phew, close call.”  
  
Beca drew herself to her feet once they were all back together. “You guys okay?”  
  
The others nodded, bits of marshmallow flying everywhere as they did. “Are you?” Jesse asked.  
  
Beca looked down at herself. There were scuffs on her jumpsuit and her ponytail had come loose, but other than that she was miraculously spotless and marshmallow-free.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said in slight disbelief.  
  
“Wow,” said Jesse. He had turned to look at what was left of Gozer’s structure, slowly climbing the steps now that it was safe to. The others followed. “I can’t believe it actually worked.”  
  
“A possibility is a possibility,” Benji mused, “no matter how big or how small.”  
  
“Ew,” said Amy when they reached the top of the stairs. “Smells rank up here. Like barbecued dog breath or something.”  
  
Beca went very still. Standing at either side of Gozer’s temple were two four-legged statues. The remnants of Gozer’s loyal subjects, turned to stone by the blast that Beca helped cause.  
  
“Oh,” said Amy, when she and the others realised. “Oh, Bec. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Beca didn’t reply. She came to the one that used to be Zuul.   
  
“I think I might have solved that little problem you were having with your fridge,” she said softly. The lifeless eyes of the statue simply stared back at her.   
  
“Beca…” said Jesse, coming to place a hand on her shoulder.  
  
She turned away from the statue. “Let‘s get the hell out of here.”  
  
Jesse had put his arm around her and began leading her back down the steps, when they heard the tiniest little groan. Muffled and echo-y, like it was coming from inside of something. Beca turned around and listened. There was silence for a second, and then she heard it again.  
  
“She’s alive in there!”  
  
They rushed forward, feeling around for any weakness in the statue, and when they couldn’t find any they just started whacking it.  
  
“Ow!” came the little voice from inside.  
  
“Sorry,” Beca called, then continued striking and digging her fingers into the stone until she could get a hold of it, and when she did she tore and tore at it. As she and the others ripped the statue to bits, she gradually saw flashes of pale skin, a dress the colour of a sunset, and strands of bright ginger hair.  
  
The dark clouds were receding, and Chloe covered her eyes against the harsh sunlight beginning to poke through, but tried her best to inspect her surroundings. The roof of her apartment building was half destroyed, and three of the people standing in front of her were covered in a strange white substance. But then she saw Beca.  
  
“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”  
  
Beca grinned. “Hey.”  
  
Another muffled voice started calling from inside the other statue. “Excuse me? Is anybody there? I could use some help.”  
  
“Aubrey,” said Chloe with a sigh of relief.  
  
“Go help her,” said Beca, sending the other Ghostbusters towards the remaining statue.  
  
“So, what happened, exactly?” Chloe asked, as Beca helped her stand up straight.  
  
“Well,” she began, “you got possessed before we could go out for dinner, and the spirit possessing your body tried to seduce me. Then you got turned into a dog by Gozer, who ended up shape-shifting into a giant corporate logo to try to end the world, but we blew it up and covered most of Central Park in other-dimensional marshmallow gook.”  
  
Chloe frowned and held a hand to her temple while she tried to process all that. “So… Gozer? Zuul?”  
  
“Gone.”  
  
Chloe smiled. “You blew up a god for me?”  
  
Beca smiled too, but kind of goofily, because Chloe’s eyes suddenly seemed really big and pretty. Or maybe she had just moved in a little close. “Well, yeah,” she managed to reply. “But it’s not all that romantic when you realise we’re gonna bill the city for the service.”  
  
Judging from the kiss, Chloe didn’t consider that small fact to be a mood-killer.  
  
Less making out was happening on the other side of the rooftop, where Jesse, Benji and Amy were helping a very unsteady Aubrey out of her crumbled tomb.  
  
“Easy,” said Jessie nervously, as Aubrey swayed and clung onto them for balance. “Get your bearings. You’ve been through a lot.”  
  
“Too right,” Amy agreed. “You had somebody else walking around in your body, and then you got turned into a dog! And then the world almost ended.”  
  
Aubrey blinked a few times, then looked up at Benji in panic.  
  
“Did we miss the ICCAs?”  
  
Benji would have told her that he didn’t have a clue what an ICCA was, but the second Aubrey’s eyes found Chloe, she rushed towards her, not caring that she hadn’t regained full use of her legs yet or that Chloe’s lips were currently all over Beca’s.   
  
“Chloe!” she cried.  
  
Chloe turned at the sound and they smashed together in a crushing hug.  
  
“I was such a bitch,” said Aubrey.  
  
“Who cares?“ insisted Chloe. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” But then Aubrey pulled back to fix Chloe with a very intense gaze.   
  
“It’s all so clear now: we should sing different songs. Newer songs. And change up our outfits. Bring the Barden Bellas into the 21st century!”  
  
Chloe stared back. “Aubrey, we just went through a near death experience, and your epiphany is that the Bellas should sing more than just Ace of Base?”  
  
Aubrey nodded, with a delirious look of joy. “Yes!”  
  
And to Beca’s surprise, Chloe responded by pulling her back in for another embrace. “That’s so great!”  
  
They continued to cling to one another for a few more seconds, while the Ghosbusters just sort of stood there awkwardly. Then Benji cleared his throat. “Hey, just a thought but I wouldn’t hug each other too hard. Your molecules might still be unstable from the transformation. There’s a slight chance you could fuse together.”  
  
“I’d be fine with that,” Aubrey mumbled into Chloe’s shoulder.  
  
Regardless, the Ghostbusters gently pried them apart. Jesse fetched the shock blanket, re-placed it around Aubrey’s shoulders, and he and Benji led her downstairs.  
  
“Wow,” said Chloe, as she and Beca watched Aubrey leave. “How long do you think that new attitude will last?”  
  
“It’s totally temporary,” Beca confirmed. “Generally when this sort of thing happens, it goes away once the thrill of, y’know, still being alive wears off.”  
  
Chloe gave her a curious look. “Does that mean I’ll eventually stop wanting to kiss you, too?”  
  
Beca shrugged. “Probably. Most people do.”  
  
Chloe grinned. “Might as well enjoy it while it lasts then, huh?” She grabbed the collar of Beca’s Ghostbusters jumpsuit and pulled her in again. Above, Gozer’s unnatural cloud finally lifted as they kissed. Newly free sunlight stretched out across the rooftop. Beca’s arms circled around Chloe’s back to hold her close on the ruins of the temple.  
  
At the far side of the rooftop, Amy gazed down at the police cars breaking their own perimeter to start rushing toward the apartment building.   
  
“The most exciting thing that ever happened in Tanzania was the time that dingo ate that crocodile,” she said with a smile. “I love this country.”  
  
  
  
\--  
  
When his knocking went unanswered, Dr Mitchell pushed the firehouse doors open a crack, and peered inside. The ground floor was empty, yet the Ghostbusters’ car, still with bits of marshmallow residue dripping from it, was parked just a few feet from the doors, so someone must be home. He stepped inside.  
  
“Hello?” he called. “Anybody here?”  
  
There was no answer. He walked toward the office at the end of the ground floor. There was still soot and scorch marks from the earlier explosion covering various areas, and Dr Mitchell was overcome with a sudden, protective anger. This was highly powerful equipment, and it was dangerous for Beca to just…  
  
The thought escaped him when he entered Beca’s office. There was a framed newspaper hanging from the wall, its front page dominated by a headline - GHOSTBUSTERS STOP CARE-HOME SPOOK - and a picture of Beca, Jesse, Benji and Amy posing with elderly citizens. Beca was crouched down to be the same level as a grey-haired lady sitting in a wheelchair, the both of them sending thumbs up and cheesy grins to the camera.   
  
Dr Mitchell smiled. Beca had been right, when she yelled at him on the street yesterday. She was bringing a service to this city that it desperately needed. If it hadn’t been for Beca and her friends today…  
  
“Dad?”  
  
Dr Mitchell turned at the sound. Beca was coming down the stairs, looking remarkably un-scathed but with a worried look on her face.  
  
“I tried calling you,” she said.  
  
“Sorry,” he replied. “My phone rang itself to death in all the craziness. Where is everybody?”  
  
Beca nodded upwards. “The power in here is still kaput, so we’re grilling burgers on the roof.”  
  
An awkward silence crept into the room.  
  
“Are you… okay?” he asked.  
  
“Fine,” she said quickly. “Everybody made it through alright.”  
  
“Great,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I watched it all from the Mayor’s office. Everybody there sends their deepest gratitude.”  
  
Beca watched him for a beat, then looked to the floor, a familiarly bitter smile coming over her face.   
  
“What?” asked Dr Mitchell, genuinely unsure of how he’d upset her this time.  
  
“Nothing,” she shrugged. “I’m just glad you came all the way down here to offer the Mayor’s thanks.”  
  
Dr Mitchell studied her for a second.   
  
“I must have done a really good job,” he said quietly, “of convincing you that I don’t think much of you. I‘m sorry about that. Really.”  
  
Beca frowned, more weirded out than anything else. Another voice interrupted their moment.  
   
“Beca! Come quick.”  
  
Another young woman came running down the stairs, stopping halfway when she spotted Dr Mitchell.   
  
“Oh. Hi,” she said. She was tall, with bright red hair, and though she was wearing a Ghostbusters jumpsuit, he didn’t recognise her as part of the team.  
  
“I’ll just be a sec,” said Beca - rather hurriedly, and that brought a grin to Dr Mitchell’s face.  
  
“You wouldn’t happen to be Chloe, would you?”  
  
Beca’s cheeks flushed as Chloe gave him a surprised look. “I would,” she said.  
  
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, risking a sly glance at Beca, who glared at him with silent threats. He decided not to torture her, and gave Chloe a big smile. “I’m Warren, Beca’s Dad.”  
  
“Oh,” Chloe relaxed. “Then you’re probably want to come see this too.”  
  


* * *

  
  
As they climbed the many stairs it took to reach the Firehouse’s roof, Chloe hugged the Ghostbusters jumpsuit she was wearing. “This is actually really snug and comfy.”  
  
“I imagine anything is comfy when all the other clothes you owned were turned to ash and slime,” Beca replied.  
  
“No but seriously,” Chloe insisted. “I might actually keep this and use it as pyjamas.”  
  
Beca looked at her like she was nuts. “You are aware of what we do here, right? Do you even know where that jumpsuit has been? The substances its come into contact with?”  
  
“Sorry to interrupt,” Dr Mitchell piped up from behind them. “But why are we heading to the roof again?”  
  
“Oh,” sad Chloe, a shiver of excitement passing over her, “you’ll see!”  
  
The sun was just about gone when they finally reached the rooftop (gone for real this time, without any supernatural assistance). When Beca had left the grill was in full use, Amy frying burger after burger while Jesse happily discussed suing Homeland Security with Kimmy-Jin, and Benji tried to convince a more back down to earth Aubrey to let him take a sample of her brain tissue.  
  
But now, only the remnants of smoke were drifting out of the grill and into the cool night air. Paper plates with forgotten leftovers littered the floor. And everybody was standing at the rooftop edge, looking out at the city.  
  
Chloe, Beca and her Dad came to stand by their side, and found out what was so captivating.  
  
“Holy shit,” Beca mumbled to herself.  
  
Every skyscraper in view had strategically turned certain lights off, so that the remaining ones spelt out ‘THANK YOU GHOSTBUSTERS’, or ‘NY LOVES GB’, or some variation of a message of gratitude.  
  
“I’m just amazed New Yorkers are capable of this level of co-ordination,” Amy mused.  
  
Aubrey nodded, but with a smile added, “The end of the world brings funny things out of people.”  
  
Chloe nudged Beca with her elbow. “Not bad, huh?”  
  
Beca was without words. She looked blankly to Jesse, who was beaming back at her. Benji wiped a tear away mumbling that “Conductors Of The Metaphysical Examination would have been way harder to spell out like that.” Even Kimmy-Jin looked mildly impressed. But of all the things she’d been through that day, the one Beca was most unprepared for was when she felt her dad’s arm circle around her shoulders.   
  
She looked up at him. He was staring out at the city, the light from the heartfelt messages reflected in his eyes.  
  
“I am so proud of you, kiddo.”  
  
Beca turned back to the skyline, not looking at her Dad probably for the same reason he wasn’t looking at her. This was already way more affection than either of them had shown one another in a long time. But even avoiding eye contact couldn’t damper the effect of the words they were finally exchanging.  
  
“Thanks, Dad. That means a whole lot.”  
  
She glanced quickly at Chloe, seeing a tiny, smug smile on the redhead’s face. Beca scowled, but reached out to take her hand. Chloe let their fingers lace together. This was no temporary reaction to a near death experience. They stayed that way for a long, long time.  
  


* * *

  
  
A few blocks away, deep in the basements of the Manhattan Museum of Art, Kommisar was quick to re-assure her colleague on the phone.  
  
“Not at all,” she stressed. “This was an isolated incident, and one that has already been taken care of. This museum is perfectly unharmed and still ready to house your piece for the next few years. I give you my word, as soon as it reaches this city, I will place the Vigo painting under my personal protection.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, nerds!


End file.
